I Was Only Sitting Here In My

Once I Was Beautiful. Now I Am Myself, Counting This Row And That Row Of Moccasins Waiting On The Silent Shelf.

You Who Have Inhabited Me In The Deepest And Most Broken Place, Are Going, Going

God Is Only Mocked By Believers.

It Doesn't Matter Who My Father Was; It Matters Who I Remember He Was.

Perhaps I Am No One. True, I Have A Body And I Cannot Escape From It. I Would Like To Fly Out Of My Head, But That Is Out Of The Question.