I Don't Know How To Sit Outside

I Don't Know How To Sit Outside Myself And Test Against A Hypothetical Self Who Stayed Home.

It Was Difficult Being A Teacher And Out Of The Closet In The '50s. By The Time I Retired, The English Department Was Proud Of Having A Gay Poet Of A Certain Minor Fame. It Was A Very Satisfactory Change!

I Was At A Benefit For Some Imprisoned Students In The '60s At San Francisco State, And There Were Lots Of Poets Reading For The Benefit: One Was Elizabeth Bishop.

I Had Assumed That I Would Age With All My Friends Growing Old Around Me, Dying Off Very Gradually One By One. And Here Was A Plague That Cut Them Off So Early.

I'm Not Sure I Had Ever Written A Fan Letter Before To A Poet I Had Not Met, But That's What I Did When I Read Two Poems By Gregory Woods ... I Admired Them Especially For Their Technical Virtuosity, In That It Was Technique Completely Used, Never For The Sake Of Cleverness But As A Component Of Feeling ... What An Enviable Talent Gregory Woods Has