Kenneth Rexroth, a 65-year-old poet, critic and translator, writes: “If ‘civilization’ means the control of life to insure steadily increasing experience of values in intensity, scope and depth,” then it broke down in August of 1914, continued to function “in a dangerous patched-up fashion” until the end of World War II, and ceased to exist thereafter. “We live in a corpse, which jerks like a dead frog on a hot wire,” he said.