Have you ever wanted someone to beg for you?
To push against you and plead to feel you ?
To tell you how theyve ached for you .. All... Day ..long.
I need that .
Begging and baring teeth ,
Crazed without my fingertips.
I want him pacing , anxiously awaiting my return, where i can remind him again why im worth waiting for .
I want him up all night counting and recounting the 100 different ways i drive him crazy , a constant game of teasing and rewards.
I want my name to give him goosebumps, closing his eyes and hearing how it sounds rolling off his tongue.....
I want him crazy about me .

A travelling heart
Won’t settle to soon
A travelling heart expects nothing
It loves as it goes
But keeps a safe distance
Fluidity and movement
Allow safety from settlement
From truth and definiteness

When will the heart be ready?
To remain
To accept another
And be still
When enough has been seen
And enough has been done
Who will settle this travelling heart?

Blandly mother
takes him strolling
     by railroad and by river
--he's the son of the absconded
     hot rod angel--
and he imagines cars
     and rides them in his dreams,

so lonely growing up among
     the imaginary automobiles
and dead souls of Tarrytown

     to create
out of his own imagination
     the beauty of his wild
forebears--a mythology
     he cannot inherit.

Will he later hallucinate
     his gods? Waking
among mysteries with
     an insane gleam
of recollection?

     The recognition--
something so rare
     in his soul,
met only in dreams
     --nostalgias
of another life.

A question of the soul.
     And the injured
losing their injury
     in their innocence
--a ****, a cross,
     an excellence of love.

And the father grieves
     in flophouse
complexities of memory
     a thousand miles
away, unknowing
     of the unexpected
youthful stranger
     bumming toward his door.

                         New York, April 13, 1952

Even on the smallest islands,
they are tilling the fields,
skylarks singing.