don 't hold back, let the forcn flow out, let the song reach for its cadenee, gather the resonance we listen for uncharted flight weaves its own streamers-we'll follow their lights in the shaping silence come clean with the words, lay low the old imprecations that buzz and click in our heads these unkind days don 't lock step, push for the ease yóu need at the mind ' s growing place, lar gene as of spirit, a billowing within D.R. Hazelton De ar Mr. President: There is no bomb in Gilead. The Red Chinese are not Red Indians . You could have saved the Sioux. Please stop them building roads In the North Cascades . There werc great white birds In the tops of the banyan trees Calling across the town When I was in Saigon . Gary Snyder Dear Mr. President, Love & Ppetry Win--forever: War is always A great big lose. I am a poet & A lover & a - How about you? Philip Whalen REVOLUTIONARY LETTER #6 avoid the folk. who find Bonnie and Clyde to violent who sec the blood but not the energy form they love us and want us to practice birth control they love us and want the Hindus to kill their cows they love us and have a colorless taste Ie ss powder which is the perfect synthetic f ood . . . Diane Di Prima