I sit I wonder,My mind a blunder.
            Sunny outside,yet all I hear is thunder.

If you ever
look at me
and don't see me
please tell me,
and I'll come
back,
to be me
myself,
the one I act
to be.
The one who's
confident,
and I'll tell
you
all the things
you want to hear
and nothing you don't
because I'll
hide my deamons,

There was this one time
you told me
if I ate too many carrots,
my skin would turn orange,
and then you laughed,
and I think I looked at you annoyed,
trying to act like you were being stupid,
and you were being stupid,
but I just thought I would tell you
that on the inside I was laughing,
and I ate a lot of carrots yesterday
and thought of you
telling me my skin would turn orange,
and it did turn orange,
and on the outside I couldn’t stop laughing.

My skin wears need. Like
static from an old t.v. screen-
willing you to touch.
But don’t touch me, OK?
Don’t look me in the eye,
and don’t ask.
Don’t ask 'cause I’d say yes,
when I should say no.
I’d say yes and I’d mean it.
But the whole world ‘d fall apart
after.

Two boys
and girls
unclothed each other
simply at a picnic
flush with wine
alongside
sun-flecked trees.

The girls,
easy as the
forest round,
burned,
delicious,
as the boys
eager and nervous
in unequal measure
partly gave up
concealing
their joys
at forgetting
or remembering
in flickers
their bare bodies.

It went on
over nettles
and half-hours
and clambered
trees and
photos taken
almost formally
(on film,
of course).

And boyish lust,
at first sinuous,
a darting tongue,
began to
soften against,
for instance,
the sheer,
unthinkable
texture
of the two
girls carved
now backward
over the bough
of a storm-felled elm.

And there
in the embers
of evening
they learned
to thrill originally
at the vast,
gorgeous
and astonishing
irrelevance
of what
might happen next.