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I will not have a single person slighted or left away,
The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited,
The heavy-lipped slave is invited—the venerealee is
invited,
There shall be no difference between them and the
rest.

91.This is the press of a bashful hand—this is the float
and odor of hair,
This is the touch of my lips to yours—this is the
murmur of yearning,
This is the far-off depth and height reflecting my
own face,
This is the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet
again.

92.Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?
Well, I have—for the Fourth Month showers have,
and the mica on the side of a rock has.

93.Do you take it I would astonish?
Does the daylight astonish? Does the early redstart,
twittering through the woods?
Do I astonish more than they?

94.This hour I tell things in confidence,
I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.
 
95.Who goes there! hankering, gross, mystical, nude?
How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?

96.What is a man anyhow? What am I? What are
you?