Subject Is Known By What She Sees.

None Of Us Understand What We're Doing, But We Do Beautiful Things Anyway.

Strange Now To Think Of You, Gone Without Corsets & Eyes, While I Walk On The Sunny Pavement Of Greenwich Village. Downtown Manhattan, Clear Winter Noon, And I've Been Up All Night, Talking, Talking, Reading The Kaddish Aloud, Listening To Ray Charles Blues Shout Blind On The Phonograph

Democracy! Bah! When I Hear That I Reach For My Feather Boa!

America I Used To Be A Communist When I Was A Kid And I'm Not Sorry.

Sometime I’ll Lay Down My Wrath, As I Lay My Body Down Between The Ache Of Breath And Breath, Golden Slumber In The Bone.