Wear It Like A Banner For The

The Past Has Been A Mint Of Blood And Sorrow. That Must Not Be True Of Tomorrow.

When Poems Stop Talking About The Moon And Begin To Mention Poverty, Trade Unions, Color, Color Lines And Colonies, Somebody Tells The Police.

Oh, God Of Dust And Rainbows, Help Us To See That Without The Dust The Rainbow Would Not Be.

The Rhythm Of Life Is A Jazz Rhythm

Looks Like What Drives Me Crazy Don't Have No Effect On You-- But I'm Gonna Keep On At It Till It Drives You Crazy, Too.