It was as if a morning-glory had bloomed in her throat, and all that blue and small pollen ate into my heart, violent and religious

[I] have fantasies of killing myself and thus being the powerful one not the powerless one.

Let God be some tribal female who is known but forbidden.

Perhaps I am no one. True, I have a body and I cannot escape from it. I would like to fly out of my head, but that is out of the question.

Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren

Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.

I must always forget how one word is able to pick out another, to manner another, until I have got something I might have said... but did not.