Any Memory For The Most Part Depending

Walk With The Dead For Fear Of Death.

A Good Meal Can Somewhat Repair / The Eatings Of Slight Love

Get Stewed:books Are A Load Of Crap.

... Everyone Young Going Down The Long Slide To Happiness, Endlessly.

The Trees Are Coming Into Leaf Like Something Almost Being Said; The Recent Buds Relax And Spread, Their Greenness Is A Kind Of Grief. Is It That They Are Born Again And We Grow Old? No, They Die Too. Their Yearly Trick Of Looking New Is Written Down In Rings Of Grain. Yet Still The Unresting Castles Thresh In Fullgrown Thickness Every May. Last Year Is Dead, They Seem To Say, Begin Afresh, Afresh, Afresh.