She's Always Looking For Poetry

I Have A Strange Illusion Quite Often. I Think I've Become Deaf. I Have To Make A Little Noise To Prove I'm Not. I Clear My Throat To Show Myself That Everything Is Normal. It's Like The Little Japanese Girl They Found In The Ruins Of Hiroshima. Everything Dead; And She Was Singing To Her Doll.

We Lay On The Ground And Kissed. Perhaps You Smile. That We Only Lay On The Ground And Kissed. You Young People Can Lend Your Bodies Now, Play With Them, Give Them As We Could Not. But Remember That You Have Paid A Price: That Of A World Rich In Mystery And Delicate Emotion. It Is Not Only Species Of Animal That Die Out. But Whole Species Of Feeling. And If You Are Wise You Will Never Pity The Past For What It Did Not Know. But Pity Yourself For What It Did.

You Come To The United States Not Knowing What To Expect. Then All Your Worst Prejudices Are Confirmed.

The Absurdly Neurotic Role You And The Rest Of Your Kind Have Always Attributed To Me Erato, The Goddess Muse Of Erotic Poetry Bears No Relation At All To Reality. As A Matter Of Fact, I Was Trained As A Clinical Psychologist. Who Simply Happens To Have Specialized In The Mental Illness That You, In Your Ignorance, Call Literature.

Adulthood Is Not An Age, But A Stage Of Knowledge Of Self.