The limp sunflowers from Wai-Ora, we tossed out. The day of the tranquil lion, the bee's face, done. I saw you, last year, in London: old, dying, young. Royal Albert Hall, thirty years on from '66. Ten down the road from printing 'Howl'. A lifetime free from peddling Ipana toothpaste blurbs. Singing, chanting, swaying: a Hassid gone astray. And for that last polemic NY ballad, McCartney. McCartney on bass, backing the last of the Beats

—Jeffrey Paparoa Holman 
   © 1997