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The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top.
Wherever he goes men and women accept and desire him, They desire he should like them, touch them, speak to them, stay with them.
(The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place, The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place, The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place.) 17 These are really the thoughts.Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself, (They do not know how immortal, but I know.) Every kind for itself and its own, for.One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang I turn and talk like man leaving charges before a journey.Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.Copyright The DayPoems web site, t, is copyright by Timothy.21 I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new.I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy, By God!30 All truths wait in all things, They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it, They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon, The insignificant is as big to me as any, (What is less or more than a touch?) Logic and.

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Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out.
One of the pumps has been shot away, it is generally thought we are sinking.
Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising freshly exuding, Scooting obliquely high and low.
I am sorry for you, they are not murderous or jealous upon me, All has been gentle with me, I keep no account with lamentation, (What have I to do with lamentation?) I am an acme of things accomplish'd, and I an encloser of things.
You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you!I do not say these things for a dollar or to fill up the time while I wait for a boat, (It is you talking just as much as myself, I act as the tongue of you, Tied in your mouth, in mine it begins.O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.My lovers suffocate me, Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets and public halls, coming naked to me at night, Crying by day, Ahoy!I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.Any requests for publication in other venues must be negotiated separately with the authors.




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