I Think I Am Mad

I Felt Very Still And Empty, The Way The Eye Of A Tornado Must Feel, Moving Dully Along In The Middle Of The Surrounding Hullabaloo.

I Love My Rejection Slips. They Show Me I Try.

England Offers New Comforts. I Could Write A Novel There.

I Am Learning Peacefulness, Lying By Myself Quietly, As The Light Lies On These White Walls, This Bed, These Hands. I Am Nobody; I Have Nothing To Do With Explosions.

I May Never Be Happy, But Tonight I Am Content.