Hypocrisy

I

I

I Ain’T Dead Yet

I Am

I Am A King

I Am A Proud Muslim Woman

I Am A Sculptor, A Molder Of Form

I am afraid to own a Body

I Am Alive – I Guess

I Am And I Am Not

I Am Ashamed—i Hide

I Am He That Aches With Love

I Am In Need Of Music

I Am Into Your Heart

I Am Much Too Alone In This World, Yet Not Alone

I Am Not Alone

I Am Not Yours

I Am Of Ireland

I Am Only The House Of Your Beloved

I Am Part Of The Load

I Am Restless

I Am The People, The Mob

I Am Tired Of Seeing

I Am Very Bothered

I Am Visited By An Editor And A Poet

I Am Waiting

I Am, O Anxious One

I Arise From Dreams Of Thee

I Ask You

I Asked No Other Thing

I Bet With Every Wind That Blew

I Breathed Enough To Learn The Trick,

I Bring An Unaccustomed Wine

I Burst Into Laughter

I Call That True Love

I Came To Buy A Smile—today

I Can See Your Face

I Can Wade Grief

I Can’T Abear

I Can’T Tell You—but You Feel It

I Can’t Touch The Sun

I Cannot Be Ashamed

I Cannot Buy It—’Tis Not Sold

I Cannot Dance Upon My Toes

I Cannot Live With You (No. 640)

I Cannot Realize

I Cast My Net Into The Sea

I Caught A Little Ladybird

I Cautious, Scanned My Little Life

I Chop Some Parsley While Listening To Art Blakey’s Version Of “Three Blind Mice”

I Closed My Eyes To Creation

I Continue To Dream

I Could Bring You Jewels—had I A Mind To

I Could Die—to Know