"I'm not a war baby, I'm a baby
at war. Thumbs grow into my throat.
I wear slaps like a spot of rouge.
Woodsman, who made me into your tree?
Drowner, who made me into your boat?
Lover, I feel a darkness, I feel a fugue
come over us. The photo sits over my desk
as we dance the karate, the mad burlesque."
October 30, 1971