The Stars Are Pears That No One

Meanwhile In My Head, I’m Undergoing Open-heart Surgery.

My Faith Is A Great Weight Hung On A Small Wire, As Doth The Spider Hang Her Baby On A Thin Web.

Only My Books Anoint Me, And A Few Friends, Those Who Reach Into My Veins.

Everyone Has Left Me Except My Muse, That Good Nurse. She Stays In My Hand, A Mild White Mouse.

Oh, Darling, Let Your Body In, Let It Tie You In, In Comfort.