Words are flowing out
like endless rain into a paper cup.
They slither widely
they slip away across the universe.
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy
are drifting through my opened mind,
possessing and caressing me.
. . .
Images of broken life
which dance before me like a million eyes,
they call me on and on across the universe.
—“Across the Universe,” John Lennon

I’ve done this to myself. I’ve done this to myself. I’ve always done this to myself. I’m crying. friendship: peace, harmony, intimacy. friend: partner, mate, intimate. (I met your husband. He compares as old, to you, as I, young.) To be more than friends. I see the wishes, and the only ifs, in me. And I don’t understand them; I try to think they’re foolish. What would a complete understanding (of me) leave you? I’ll find that. The feeling must be mutual, you said: I’m afraid I’ll step too far and leave what we are behind. Thoughts, can never be more, than thoughts. I want to yell. I never will.

November 1970