The Shovel Is The Brother

I Am The People The Mob The Crowd The Mass. Do You Know That All The Great Work Of The World Is Done Through Me?

Poetry Is The Journal Of A Sea Animal Living On Land, Wanting To Fly In The Air.

A Liar Is A Liar And Lives On The Lies He Tells And Dies In A Life Of Lies.

Out Of Great Russia Came Three Dusky Syllables Workmen Took Guns And Went Out To Die For: Bread, Peace, Land.

Nothing Happens Unless First We Dream.