may i feel said he (i'll squeal said she just once said he) it's fun said she

(may i touch said he how much said she a lot said he) why not said she

(let's go said he not too far said she what's too far said he where you are said she)

may i stay said he (which way said she like this said he if you kiss said she

may i move said he is it love said she) if you're willing said he (but you're killing said she

but it's life said he but your wife said she now said he) ow said she

(tiptop said he don't stop said she oh no said he) go slow said she

(cccome?said he ummm said she) you're divine!said he (you are Mine said she)

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
–firm–smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like,, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what–is–it comes
over parting flesh....And eyes big Love–crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

the boys i mean are not refined they go with girls who buck and bite they do not give a fuck for luck they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit one carves a cross in her behind they do not give a shit for wit the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck who cannot read and cannot write who laugh like they would fall apart and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined they cannot chat of that and this they do not give a fart for art they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind they do whatever's in their pants the boys i mean are not refined they shake the mountains when they dance

if i should sleep with a lady called death
get another man with firmer lips
to take your new mouth in his teeth
(hips pumping pleasure into hips)

Seeing how the limp huddling string
of your smile over his body squirms
kissingly,i will bring you every spring
handfuls of little normal worms.

Dress deftly your flesh in stupid stuffs,
phrase the immense weapon of your hair.
Understanding why his eye laughs,
i will bring you every year

something which is worth the whole,
an inch of nothing for your soul.

in a middle of a room stands a suicide sniffing a Paper rose smiling to a self

"somewhere it is Spring and sometimes people are in real:imagine somewhere real flowers,but I can't imagine real flowers for if I

could,they would somehow not Be real" (so he smiles smiling)"but I will not

everywhere be real to you in a moment" The is blond with small hands

"& everything is easier than I had guessed everything would be;even remembering the way who looked at whom first,anyhow dancing"

(a moon swims out of a cloud a clock strikes midnight a finger pulls a trigger a bird flies into a mirror)

maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea

she being Brand

–new;and you
know consequently a
little stiff i was
careful of her and(having

thoroughly oiled the universal
joint tested my gas felt of
her radiator made sure her springs were O.

K.)i went right to it flooded–the–carburetor cranked her

up,slipped the
clutch(and then somehow got into reverse she
kicked what
the hell)next
minute i was back in neutral tried and

again slo–wly;bare,ly nudg.  ing(my

lev–er Right–
oh and her gears being in
A 1 shape passed
from low through
second–in–to–high like
greasedlightning)just as we turned the corner of Divinity

avenue i touched the accelerator and give

her the juice,good

(it

was the first ride and believe i we was
happy to see how nice she acted right up to
the last minute coming back down by the Public
Gardens i slammed on

the
internalexpanding
&
externalcontracting
brakes Bothatonce and

brought allofher tremB
–ling
to a:dead.

stand–
;Still)

(once like a spark)

if strangers meet
life begins—
not poor not rich
(only aware)
kind neither
nor cruel
(only complete)
i not not you
not possible;
only truthful
—truthfully,once
if strangers(who
deep our most are
selves)touch:
forever

(and so to dark)

love's the i guess most only verb that lives (her tense beginning,and her mood unend) from brightly which arise all adjectives and all into whom darkly nouns descend

If freckles were lovely, and day was night, And measles were nice and a lie warn't a lie, Life would be delight,— But things couldn't go right For in such a sad plight I wouldn't be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true, There might be some sense But I'd be in suspense For on such a pretense You wouldn't be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square, And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee Things would seem fair,— Yet they'd all despair, For if here was there We wouldn't be we.

i love you much(most beautiful darling)

more than anyone on the earth and i
like you better than everything in the sky

—sunlight and singing welcome your coming

although winter may be everywhere
with such a silence and such a darkness
noone can quite begin to guess

(except my life)the true time of year—

and if what calls itself a world should have
the luck to hear such singing(or glimpse such
sunlight as will leap higher than high
through gayer than gayest someone's heart at your each

nearness)everyone certainly would(my
most beautiful darling)believe in nothing but love

it may not always be so;and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another's,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be—
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

—turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands

you shall above all things be glad and young
For if you're young,whatever life you wear

it will become you;and if you are glad
whatever's living will yourself become.
Girlboys may nothing more than boygirls need:
i can entirely her only love

whose any mystery makes every man's
flesh put space on;and his mind take off time

that you should ever think,may god forbid
and (in his mercy) your true lover spare:
for that way knowledge lies,the foetal grave
called progress,and negation's dead undoom.

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a far better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
––the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for eachother: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

i have found what you are like
the rain,

(Who feathers frightened fields

with the superior dust–of–sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light

with thinned

newfragile yellows

lurch and.press

—in the woods

which

stutter

and

sing

And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,

your kiss

you said Is
there anything which
is dead or alive more beautiful
than my body,to have in your fingers
(trembling ever so little)?

Looking into

your eyes Nothing,i said,except the
air of spring smelling of never and forever.

....and through the lattice which moved as
if a hand is touched by a
hand(which
moved as though
fingers touch a girl's
breast,
lightly)

Do you believe in always,the wind

said to the rain
I am too busy with
my flowers to believe,the rain answered

if i love You
(thickness means
worlds inhabited by roamingly
stern bright faeries

if you love
me) distance is mind carefully
luminous with innumerable gnomes
Of complete dream

if we love each (shyly)
other, what clouds do or Silently
Flowers resembles beauty
less than our breathing

Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you're hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you're flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it's there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you

my mind is
a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and taste and smell
and hearing and sight keep hitting and chipping with sharp fatal
tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of chrome and ex-
ecute strides of cobalt
nevertheless i
feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am becoming
something a little different,in fact
myself
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shreiks and scarlet bellowings.

ygUDuh

ydoan
yunnuhstan

ydoan o
yunnuhstan dem
yguduh ged

yunnuhstan dem doidee
yguduh ged riduh
ydoan o nudn

LISN bud LISN

dem
gud
am

lidl yelluh bas
tuds weer goin

duhSIVILEYEzum

nobody loses all the time

i had an uncle named
Sol who was a born failure and
nearly everybody said he should have gone
into vaudeville perhaps because my Uncle Sol could
sing McCann He Was A Diver on Xmas Eve like Hell Itself which
may or may not account for the fact that my Uncle

Sol indulged in that possibly most inexcusable
of all to use a highfalootin phrase
luxuries that is or to
wit farming and be
it needlessly
added

my Uncle Sol's farm
failed because the chickens
ate the vegetables so
my Uncle Sol had a
chicken farm till the
skunks ate the chickens when

my Uncle Sol
had a skunk farm but
the skunks caught cold and
died so
my Uncle Sol imitated the
skunks in a subtle manner

or by drowning himself in the watertank
but somebody who'd given my Unde Sol a Victor
Victrola and records while he lived presented to
him upon the auspicious occasion of his decease a
scrumptious not to mention splendiferous funeral with
tall boys in black gloves and flowers and everything and

i remember we all cried like the Missouri
when my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched because
somebody pressed a button
(and down went
my Uncle
Sol

and started a worm farm)

Jehovah buried,Satan dead, do fearers worship Much and Quick; badness not being felt as bad, itself thinks goodness what is meek; obey says toc,submit says tic, Eternity's a Five Year Plan: if Joy with Pain shall hang in hock who dares to call himself a man?

go dreamless knaves on Shadows fed, your Harry's Tom,your Tom is Dick; while Gadgets murder squawk and add, the cult of Same is all the chic, by instruments,both span and spic, are justly measured Spic and Span: to kiss the mike if Jew turn kike who dares to call himself a man?

loudly for Truth have liars pled, their heels for Freedom slaves will click; where Boobs are holy,poets mad, illustrious punks of Progress shriek; when Souls are outlawed,Hearts are sick, Hearts being sick,Minds nothing can: if Hate's a game and Love's a fuck who dares to call himself a man?

King Christ,this world is all aleak; and lifepreservers there are none: and waves which only He may walk Who dares to call Himself a man.

Always before your voice my soul half–beautiful and wholly droll is as some smooth and awkward foal, whereof young moons begin the newness of his skin,

so of my stupid sincere youth the exquisite failure uncouth discovers a trembling and smooth Unstrength,against the strong silences of your song;

or as a single lamb whose sheen of full unsheared fleece is mean beside its lovelier friends,between your thoughts more white than wool My thought is sorrowfull:

but my heart smote in trembling thirds of anguish quivers to your words, As to a flight of thirty birds shakes with a thickening fright the sudden fooled light.

it is the autumn of a year: When through the thin air stooped with fear, across the harvest whitely peer empty of surprise death's faultless eyes

(whose hand my folded soul shall know while on faint hills do frailly go The peaceful terrors of the snow, and before your dead face which sleeps,a dream shall pass)

and these my days their sounds and flowers Fall in a pride of petaled hours, like flowers at the feet of mowers whose bodies strong with love through meadows hugely move.

yet what am i that such and such mysteries very simply touch me,whose heart–wholeness overmuch Expects of your hair pale, a terror musical?

while in an earthless hour my fond soul seriously yearns beyond this fern of sunset frond on frond opening in a rare Slowness of gloried air…

The flute of morning stilled in noon— noon the implacable bassoon— now Twilight seeks the thrill of moon, washed with a wild and thin despair of violin

the other guineahen died of a broken heart and we came to New York. I used to sit at a table,drawing wings with a pencil that kept breaking and i kept

remembering how your mind looked when it slept for several years,to wake up asking why. So then you turned into a photograph

of somebody who's trying not to laugh at somebody who's trying not to cry

she,straddling my lap, hinges(wherewith I tongue each eager pap) and,reaching down,by merely fingertips the hungry Visitor steers to love's lips Whom(justly as she now begins to sit, almost by almost giving her sweet weight) O,how those hot thighs juicily embrace! and(instant by deep instant)as her face watches,scarcely alive,that magic Feast greedily disappearing least by least— through what a dizzily palpitating host (sharp inch by inch)swoons sternly my huge Guest! until(quite when our touching bellies dream) unvisibly love's furthest secrets rhyme.

n w O h S LoW h myGODye ss

b et wee n no w dis appear ing mou ntains a re drifti ng christi an how swee tliest bell s and we'l l be you' ll be i' ll be ? ? ther efore let' s k is s

all which isn't singing is mere talking and all talking's talking to oneself (whether that oneself be sought or seeking master or disciple sheep or wolf)

gush to it as deity or devil —toss in sobs and reasons threats and smiles name it cruel fair or blessed evil— it is you(né i)nobody else

drive dumb mankind dizzy with haranguing —you are deafened every mother's son— all is merely talk which isn't singing and all talking's to oneself alone

but the very song of(as mountains feel and lovers)singing is silence

l(a

le
af
fa
ll

s)
one
l

iness