there was an uncle billy abbott. and i believe that uncle billy abbott was the first one who really led me toward english, toward writing, toward the satisfaction of externalizing my sorrows and distresses. and i think that's the basis for my continued interest in writing. [allen ginsburg] waiting. "when i am alone i am happy. "the air is cool. the sky is flecked and splashed and wound "with color. the crimson phalloi of the sassafras leaves "hang crowded before me in shoals on the heavy branches. "when i reach my doorstep "i am greeted by the happy shrieks of my children "and my heart sinks. i am crushed. "are not my children as dear to me as falling leaves or "must one become stupid to grow older? "it seems much as if sorrow had tripped up my heels. "let us see, let us see! "what did i plan to say to her when it should happen to me as it has happened now?" there was, i think, definitely this split in williams' life. he was devoted to his wife flossie and his family as the two boys came along, but at the same time,