Classic Poem

This is Sheepshead Bay, and still winter …
It is shortly after my father's death,
And my brother and I go to the rough public school where I fall in love with the teacher …

And one afternoon some little boys invite us to their house …
I am dimly in it, some bizarre stuffiness of lace-curtains and bric-a-brac,
And these tough little worldly boys …

And as in a trance I hear these boys knocking asunder the world I lived in
And opening up a larger world of mystery and passion …
And yet as soon as I see this larger world I know it is mine also …

Men do it with women, they say, and men do it with men,
And boys with girls, and boys with boys,
And it's very nice and lots of fun …
And some fellows do it all by themselves …

And they give some vivid descriptions, and hand out lumps of evil-smelling cocoanut candy,
The eating of which fascinates and sickens me …

Shortly thereafter my mother asks me to draw a picture,
And there is a strange half-sterile inspiration,

And I draw a sailor on the mast of a ship,
And become dizzy and stomach-sick, and have to be helped to a couch …

So there is a curious beginning of that conception and giving birth
Which later shall be my art.