If I behave, I can participate
half as a half-grown as if
it were fun in that world
on its head that thinks it can

cheer me up with a smile, kid
the best time of your life...
Cynics! Down with them! Down with fake!
I have square shoulders

just wait, I'm beating
the drum, I'm in
the hangout
about to

They have been hanging
for so long that their brains turn
everything around, having no idea
what's real, what's fake

The publication of this poem has not yet been authorised by the owner of the copyright on the original text

Persephone wears flowers
and tough jackboots like a soldier
with muscles, or an open waistcoat
with a mini skirt like a virgin, always
conquering the instincts around her

In Coco's dress, she parades on Jersey
the transparent plastic rustles
every time I kiss it
passers-by take photos
she is in the newspapers

Spring has begun
old desires wake up
people get aroused
and inspired to let themselves go
she is an example

everyone sees her, but doesn't know who she is
flowers cover her bare body
she charms soldiers and virgins
with instincts, singing her praises
and creating life

Dear mama, there's really no need to despair
for no man will touch me because I'm prepared
if smiles are no good I've a spray in my jack
and also I carry a stone in my pack

and we sang toothelaa, toothelee, toothelaahayhay

My daughter, dear daughter, why hurry, please listen
and demonstrate later, it saves you regret
a flattering boy will get round your resistance
he'll take you apart and will lay you in bed

and we sang toothelaa, toothelee, toothelaahayhay

Dear mama, the boy that was walking with me
has taught me the future is open and free
much greater and brighter than you've ever known
it started this weekend, these days time has flown!

And we sang toothelaa, toothelee, toothelaahayhay

The leader, she urged us: lie down and go slow
relax completely and let yourself go
and also she told me: you're not a little child
get rid of the spray and the stone, and she smiled

and we sang toothelaa, toothelee, toothelaahayhay

We kissed and we cuddled until it was light
it lasted too short, that very first night
oh mama, dear mama, it's true, I can tell
it's fun to protest, but it's tiring as well

and we sang toothelaa, toothelee, toothelaahayhay

No mama, dear mama, I'm through with your stress
this young man, he gave me his name and address
we'll marry, perhaps with a baby, we three
and happy we'll sing: this protest set us free

My first loves, a game:
the cool boys in the breaks
for which school was good

and in the weekends with lies
confirmed by my dear brother
evenings of fun in disco and club –

the true, my real, life
Get a berry, we're not leaving
not going to bed. The bike will wait

we stay, chatting and laughing, free
we are, because mum doesn't know
and is not worried

We were afraid
of getting caught
in the distance the train
to Grantham, here
buzzing mosquitoes and the smell
of the loo

At that time it was a building site
behind the ditch, cows were looking
in our direction, between the canteen
and material containers we lay
on a rubber plate
over the mud

I felt my fingers
in the warmth of his hair
and inside, the unknown
he was doing, it happened quite fast
twice, he said
we didn't have time to kiss

He walked away proudly
I followed him with my eyes
we did not dare
to go together
It has happened
Now I can go on

My parents are away, we can go
to bed, but not even with an excuse

do I dare to go in the direction
of my room with you

or take your hand without
saying anything, because

do you want it too, and what face
should I have? That's why

a whole line of neighbours are our witnesses
that we let fly the thought of naked kisses

and lightly floating in love
With full attention

we alternately strike it off
playing badminton

in the sweet smell of summer flowers

Stubble field
husks in the air
dry summer scents

poplar trees along the ditch
our haystack at the end
inside, out of sight

our cave
pulled and pushed
in the long yellow grass

I dream that I am with you
lying there, naked
like newborn animals

that's all
nothing else matters
we may die

that's our secret
mum doesn't understand
she is afraid

Collages of 1970
I draw from reality
and fantasize it

I'm exploring my faces
on pictures and in real life
I usually find myself more beautiful

The divine body
of youth, says my aunt
not Morris's naked ape

But nobody notices
whatever clothes I take off
in my chaste longing

for sex, never thought
of nude butts without sluts
armpit hair and scent signals

all those certainties
that I do not experience
As if I'm still a child

I learn all sorts of things
that will be useful later
with diplomas

that should be enough
not to be worried
about my future, simply
helping others and devoting
myself with a shrug
to what I am good at

But is it enough
to live being embraced
by the All, not as a learned animal
but as a human being, knowing that
it lasts just a short time
without feeling this?

How do I stay cheerful and healthy
a human with humans, every day
again as new, knowing that

Village boys drive the harvest
princesses through Main Street

the eels in the source swim
answers for the lovers

who seek assurances, but we
lie on the attic mattress

and repeat what should never
end, we know it for sure

in every cell of our body
More real we cannot feel

like no one can reason away
diseases or torture, so

let us, weightlessly heavy, sink away
together in the smell of angelica

Amsterdam! Free
man of the world you want to be

your wild eyes threaten
my father hand, please, send
an angel, light, a woman
a favourable wind, sweet dreams
someone, something to help you
unbreakable mirrors if need be

Father, mother, earth, universe
make something happen, of course
who sees everything, does not know why
to intervene

freedom would be meaningless
if for adults only

understanding and obedient
everything with measure, giving up
what is beautiful and attractive
and smiling
at the discontented excuses
and lies of the past

You grow up wounded
I too have built, defended
and then demolished
castles and walls -

old men's proud
of the scars of my fight