Gay Men

I dream in Greek of the perfect man.
Of him dreaming with me in distant lands.
But a carcass picked clean upon the sands,
is my heart in another man’s hands.

The knocking noise your tongue makes
Pauses of the silence, spit-back to open a weary insessant scapula bite
Riding a nightmare of twin razors-your refusal to sleep
A glass artifical lake lapping at an …

The clock strikes out his conscience
This is not the hour to roughen justice
Or for truths to be told-cutting his skin
To fit
For the long haul-I am not a puzzle
To be broken down into little neat pieces
A…

Lover, keep your anonymity

Lover, maintain your mystique

Lover, push against me

Lover, make my soul speak

Lover, dismiss me slowly,

Lover, fein excitement when we greet

Lover, meet my eyes with the i…

To the man with parchment kisses,
Who didn’t realize we were dancing on wet tissues.
We were beneath my window with words on our sleeves.
I’ll live in your basement, but only when you cross…

Brown eyes, a grass hill,

Patiently, time waited.

Playful, afternoon.

I dreamt the branch beneath the sparrow broke from the weight of his song.

His festive breast light-weight quelled by the tumble , long.

I dreamt his heart afflicted, mirrored by his descent.

Frayed …

Dreams are often taken away.
They hit the ceiling of high hopes
And crash with ferocity.
The four walls, as lonely, as the evening air.
Offering no protection for a broken heart.
This bed is empty and th…

Musing I

The night is ours.

Between the ink on this page and thoughts of you, we exist in absolute permanence

My pen printing words or sketching pictures bring more intimacy then any physical touch.

One always is leaning back into the first step, and one always has to be the weight to signal the last word.

Lifting his trembling limbs, twisting and turning in an ectasy
Un-travelled under his skin. This territory riddle of countless, face-less strangers-

You look beautiful to me…
like a brand new angel.

the dark before dawn
looking at stars crossed by chem trails
I rode yesterday
for the first time since the accident
the air was full of February
windsickles
snapping off of me
and regrowing inside my jacket…

So when next you see a piece of wire with a stuffed budgie hanging from it

It was morning
I intended not to bring him here.