Today God Gives Milk / And I

Maybe, Although My Heart Is A Kitten Of Butter, I Am Blowing It Up Like A Zeppelin.

Psychiatry Is A Dirty Mirror.

My Mouth Blooms Like A Cut.

I Like You; Your Eyes Are Full Of Language." [letter To Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]

I Imitatea Memory Of Beliefthat I Do Not Own.