But I doubt that I am different from Everybody.
I doubt if I am anyway abnormal.
I am very sane.
A match-flame burns me the same as it burns Everybody: pins prick me and hurt.
Yet I look in myself and see, through harmonic details, the massed Dissonance.
I am dying in a pit.
[Black-browed Wednesdays]
To-morrow
ALL my life I’ve liked the Back of a magazine.