I Wonder More And More Just Where

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

The World Is A Kind Of Spiritual Kindergarten Where Millions Of Bewildered Infants Are Trying To Spell "god" With The Wrong Blocks.

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?

Do You Hear The Children Singing?

Poets And Kings Are But The Clerks Of Time, Tiering The Same Dull Webs Of Discontent, Clipping The Same Sad Alnage Of The Years.