Y E A R N Y E A H Y E A R N
Within his breast was poised
a delicate cup of china
yearning to be filled with elegance and grace
for he knew he was such a clumsy beast
(an ANIMAL his aunt had called him:
'Mein kind! mein kind! du bist ein Tier!'
his Mutter had screamed and startled him
into dropping the tortured creature
he was dismembering into the sandbox
his Papa had painted in red, white, and blue
peppermint stripes because here, here
his son could become the President maybe).
But all he wanted was
a) a little style with people and b) a happy
healthy sweet relationship with another person
c) for his cup to be filled with the dream
d) for it to runneth over
a delight to one and all.
to make virtue of his private necessity,
the son of a butcher and bitch,
was more easily felt than accomplished
dreamed of than done
and everywhere he went
his Papa's Fleischmarkt went with him:
Rubens reminded him of the Fleischmarkt
Flaming Creatures reminded him of the Fleischmarkt
T-shirts, pink lingerie
the war in Vietnam, his girlfriends
all reminded him of the Fleischmarkt.
he tried to exorcise it with seriousness
(ever notice how butchers are only serious
with the money but not the meat -- they just smile at it)
he exorcised it with poetry and working
at jobs remote from the Fleisch.
Still he knew, he knew from his dreams
he was ever the beast, when he saw himself
a gazelle fressing the carcass of a zebra.
He knew from the impulses he felt when opposed
but he controlled it, controlled it
and went wherever he went, far or near,
but not in a straight line.