They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Not easy to state the change you made. If I'm alive now, I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.

I wanted to be where nobody I knew could ever come.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.

As from a star I saw, coldly and soberly, the separateness of everything. I felt the wall of my skin; I am I. That stone is a stone. My beautiful fusion with the things of this world was over.

The only thing I could think of was turkey neck and turkey gizzards and I felt very depressed.

The frost makes a flower, the dew makes a star.