Yes With most poems I was in the basement of the gym at the University of California Riverside where I was an undergraduate and the bookstore had just received the paperback of life studies and I plucked it off the shelves and I opened it and I read this poem a man and wife. Tamed by Milton. Rely on mother s bed. The rising sun and war paint dyes us red. In broad daylight her gilded bedpost shine abandon almost Dionysian. And last the trees are green on Marlborough Street. Blossoms on our Magnolia ignite the morning with their murderous 5 days white all night and held your hand as if you had a 4th time faced the kingdom of the med its hackneyed speech its homeless sidle I and drag me home alive. On my petite clearest of all God s creatures still all air and nerve you are in your twenty s and I once hand on glass in heart and mouth I drank the rods in the heat of Greenwich Village feigning at your feet to boil and shy and poker face to make a pass well the shrill verb of your invective