Jack Cook spent 23 months in Allenwood and Lewisburg as a conscientious objector. An anarchist tutored by Dorothy Day and the Catholic Worker movement, he brought non-compliance confrontation to Allenwood, and the prison retaliated by throwing him into ""the hole"" of solitary confinement. Cook and four accomplices defied the system by trying to walk up to the gate where peace demonstrators were rallying -- ""All those chicks. Those legs. . . . All that hair!"" A moment of freedom, then Lewisburg. Even a putrid bug-ridden six-by-nine cell has its joyous moments. Conversation goes on in echoes. ""HEYY, HOBBHOBBITTTTHOBBIT! Thesunset Hobbit! Didyousee it?"" ""Yes I walkedthroughit."" The politics of the political prisoners remain unexpressed; the prison itself never comes into focus; Cook's sophomoric poetry, his orations, and aimless banter down out the groans of his incarceration. A few declamatory reflections flash out: ""Chained, we can change. Changed, we can unchain,"" but the kaleidoscopic chatter about tooth powder, soap, oranges, and contraband and the innumerable ""fucks"" against the war, discipline, order, and empire make this an anarchic scratch sheet of random impressions.