Ring The Bells That Still Can Ring.

[i Had A Sense Of Interior Panic].always. I Didn't Really Know What To Call It For A Long Time, But I Have A Friend In Greece Who Used That Word Panic A Lot, And I Found Myself Resisting It, Until I Totally Accepted That As A Precise Description Of My Interior Condition. It Was Mostly Panic From One Moment To The Next. And Nothing Much Else Was Going On.

I Had The Title Poet, And Maybe I Was One For A While. Also, The Title Singer Was Kindly Accorded Me, Even Though I Could Barely Carry A Tune.

Suffering, Violent Suffering, Seems To Be Something That Corresponds With Something That We Experience.

Why Don't You Try To Do Without Him, Why Don't You Try To Live Alone? Do You Really Need His Hands For Your Passion? Do You Really Need His Heart For Your Throne? Do You Need His Labor For Your Baby? Do You Need His Beast For The Bone? Do You Need To Hold A Leash To Be A Lady? I Know That You Can Make It, You Can Make It On Your Own.

I Almost Went To Bed Without Remembering The Four White Violets I Put In The Button-hole Of Your Green Sweater And How I Kissed You Then And You Kissed Me Shy As Though I’d Never Been Your Lover