i have stood where boys have stood
an hour of their body in the ground
from their backs to their hands up
pricking gently a cool stroke of wind

and each parting softly sleep stole
into the easy crush of rain, and into
the always agape lips of wanting spring

you think


                     makes



                                           (hurt


              me

                    )creeping                                      you


                               between


                 fingers' fay


barely and leather

(stud and skin)

teeth against open
your shoulder blades
apart seemingly *****

tighten furiously into
a grin



                 when

                 most
                 is
                 pain

there is no living which is not dying

what am I I don't know I think I'm a boy I grew up one time reading a book with a gun in my hand with a pellet gun in my hand I grew up a boy

"Do it." She said.

when admits into me the splendor

           ;(your heart)

by quick immutable prancing cloven love
a shall star

                        (within dumb lips contained)




                         revolt against darkness




                                  A brightness



                              more sweet than
                              bitter less
                              and without limit

                              (honey;salt)


                              Dissolving completely
                              the whole of your breast
                              into livid Spring
                              a bruise


                               and become

                               again whole

                               again young



                                again,

                                    .



                                       ,






                           .

"It's bad for you." He said.

"I know it's bad," she replied, "but I want to do it anyway."