In the houses the dishes and fare and furniture-but the host and hostess, and the look out of their eyes?
Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender.
In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as forward sluing, To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing, Absorbing all to myself and for this song.50 There is that in me-I do not know what it is-but I know it is.His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him, His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return.Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!Why should I pray?I troop forth replenish'd with supreme power, one of an average unending procession, Inland and sea-coast we go, and pass all boundary lines, Our swift ordinances on their way over the whole earth, The blossoms we wear in our hats the growth of thousands.I remember now, I resume the overstaid fraction, The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to any graves, Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from.I am given up by traitors, I talk wildly, I have lost my wits, I and nobody else am the greatest traitor, I went myself first to the headland, my own hands carried me there.This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven, And I said to my spirit When we become the enfolders of those orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of every thing in them, shall we be fill'd and satisfied then?Back to top DayPoems Poem.In at the conquer'd doors they crowd!
Again the long roll of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive.
I do not snivel that snivel the world over, That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.
11 Twenty-eight young blind dating bacio lucia e brutto men bathe by the shore, Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly; Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.
Embody all presences outlaw'd or suffering, See myself in prison shaped like another man, And feel the dull unintermitted pain.The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray.Easily written loose-finger'd chords-I donne in cerca di coppia, oaxaca feel the thrum of your climax and close.I do not press my fingers across my mouth, I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart, Copulation is no more rank to me than death.Press close bare-bosom'd night-press close magnetic nourishing night!
You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.
I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms.