If I Didn’t Think, I’d

But I Wasn't Sure. I Wasn't Sure At All. How Did I Know That Someday―at College, In Europe, Somewhere, Anywhere―the Bell Jar, With Its Stifling Distortions, Wouldn't Descend Again?

I Felt Dull And Flat And Full Of Shattered Visions.

Only I Wasn't Steering Anything, Not Even Myself.

The Frost Makes A Flower, The Dew Makes A Star.

The Man Creates A Pseudonym And Hides Behind It Like A Worm