What You Look At Hard

I Find Myself Both As Man And As Myself Something More Determined And Distinctive, At Pitch, More Distinctive And Higher Pitched Than Anything Else I See.

O The Mind, Mind Has Mountains; Cliffs Of Fall Frightful, Sheer, No-man-fathomed. Hold Them Cheap May Who Ne'er Hung There. Nor Does Long Our Small Durance Deal With That Steep Or Deep.

I Do Not Write For The Public. You Are My Public And I Hope To Convert You.

Not, I’ll Not, Carrion Comfort, Despair, Not Feast On Thee; Not Untwist—slack They May Be—these Last Strands Of Man In Me ór, Most Weary, Cry I Can No More. I Can; Can Something, Hope, Wish Day Come, Not Choose Not To Be.

My Own Heart Let Me More Have Pity On; Let Me Live To My Sad Self Hereafter Kind, Charitable; Not Live This Tormented Mind With This Tormented Mind Tormenting Yet.