God, How I Ricochet Between Certainties And

I Have Taken A Pill To Kill The Thin Papery Feeling.

Perhaps You Considered Yourself An Oracle, Mouthpiece Of The Dead, Or Of Some God Or Other. Thirty Years Now I Have Labored To Dredge The Silt From Your Throat. I Am None The Wiser.

Kiss Me And You Will See How Important I Am.

The Silence Drew Off, Baring The Pebbles And Shells And All The Tatty Wreckage Of My Life.

What I Didn't Say Was That Each Time I Picked Up A German Dictionary Or A German Book, The Very Sight Of Those Dense, Black, Barbed-wire Letters Made My Mind Shut Like A Clam.