Untitled 1975–86

^{after Alvin Baltrop & Frank O’Hara}

Glorious!                     what mountain 
of mouths i could boulder my tongue 
from. what bountiful luck i must 
have acquired to own a debt 
from every man. i like this type of sweet; 
tongue stained in mulberry 
blood like new york concrete in june. and here 
we are again in june. with all the summer’s 
bees and root beer floats and boys screaming 
laughter into the jaws of a sprinkler head. and i, too, am 
so joyful here, i have forgotten that january 
ever existed. can you smell the bark? the branches 
and men slumping with fruit? i will miss this 
come fall, when the wind turns 
a sugared maple. it’s so cliche to cling 
to the boys i once kissed, but i will admit it, 
i have loved a boy ragged until the last 
leaf fell from his gums.