I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me, You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you. - Walt Whitman

My lovers suffocate me! Crowding my lips, and thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets and public halls...coming naked to me at night, Crying by day Ahoy from the rocks of the river...swinging and chirping over my head, Calling my name from flowerbeds or vines or tangled underbrush, Or while I swim in the bath....or drink from the pump on the corner....or the curtain is down at the opera.....or I glimpse at a woman’s face in the railroad car; Lighting on every moment of my life, Bussing my body with soft and balsamic busses, Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them to be mine

Aquel que camina una sola legua sin amor, camina amortajado hacia su propio funeral.

This hour I tell things in confidence/ I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.