The Obstacle Became His Alibi For Weakness.

Idealism Is The Death Of The Body And The Imagination. All But Freedom, Utter Freedom, Is Death

I Sleep With My Feet On Moss Carpets, My Branches In The Cotton Of The Clouds.

Anxiety Is Loves Greatest Killer.

At First I Protested And Rebelled Against Poetry. I Was About To Deny My Poetic Worlds. I Was Doing Violence To My Illusions With Analysis, Science, And Learning Henry’s Language, Entering Henry’s World. I Wanted To Destroy By Violence And Animalism My Tenuous Fantasies And Illusions And My Hypersensitivity. A Kind Of Suicide. The Ignominy Awakened Me. Then June Came And Answered The Cravings Of My Imagination And Saved Me. Or Perhaps She Killed Me, For Now I Am Started On A Course Of Madness.

Eroticism Is One Of The Basic Means Of Self-knowledge, As Indispensable As Poetry.