Blot Out The Moon, Pull Down The

Quite Like Old Times,' The Room Says.

I Have Been Here Five Days. I Have Decided On A Place To Eat In At Midday, A Place To Eat In At Night, A Place To Have My Drink In After Dinner. I Have Arranged My Little Life.

The Woman Had A Humble, Cringing Manner. Of Course, She Had Discovered That, Having Neither Money Nor Virtue, She Had Better Be Humble If She Knew What Was Good For Her.

But They Never Last, The Golden Days. And It Can Be Sad, The Sun In The Afternoon, Can't It? Yes, It Can Be Sad, The Afternoon Sun, Sad And Frightening.

I Sit At My Window And The Words Fly Past Me Like Birds — With God's Help I Catch Some.