If I when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white discin silken mists
above shining trees,
—if I in my north room
dance naked grotes quely before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head and singing softly to myself
:"I am lonely, lonely. I was born to be lonely, I am best so!"
If I admire my arms, my face,my shoulders, flanks, buttocks against the yellow drawn shades,
—Who shall say I am not the happy genius of my household?
-william carlos williams
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