Friends: People Who Borrow My Books And

Friends: People Who Borrow My Books And Set Wet Glasses On Them.

Are We No Greater Than The Noise We Make Along One Blind Atomic Pilgrimage Whereon By Crass Chance Billeted We Go Because Our Brains And Bones And Cartilage Will Have It So?

I Wonder More And More Just Where I May Have Come Out If I Had Never Seen Harvard Square.

No Matter What We Are, And What We Sing, Time Finds A Withered Leaf In Every Laurel

Where's The Need Of Singing Now?