Empire of Eclipsed Men

Drift on in : disheveled dogma

with your queens that have no religion

but bewrayed make-up & fakedness;

or your jocks with their chromed muscles

so butch, he dances without a stiff shirt;

or the older men which arrive early to hide

their mishap & years with swift green

and platinum Discover...

I want to understand each of these

callow roads and sway;

where do I lay my pink calm,

where should my truths begin to stay...?

 

Twine this uncanny urgent speech,

body vague...as fingers--lips and breath--wide eyed,

limbs & grace--gruel-thick, defied...

Yet how gruff our bending

guile and bargain against nature's natural,

operatic oceans...

We do not balance our assets

but share armor against

mother-norm & father-straight,

they can spit acid edits

and kill the pride

should we allow them inside

our rainbow intrigues, our secret spaces

of quasi bliss, or secret highs...

 

Drift & twine

my fashion is the dance,

the explicit excuses of lover's chance,

the empire of eclipsed men;

enter hush and pray again

I will myself to love my home :

my soul,

where lives the flesh & bone...

my hands are cut, snarling red,

my heart still beats--as men have fled

similar plumbing, simple to me

normal to f*****s in these crystalized streets,

normal to me...

 

A man's touch

the wonderous places between

a man's breath

I am complete and unweened

glory and holes to be seen

artist--soldier--brother, dance

a gay man

with lover's chance...

Reviews

[Engulfed in Flames]

kudos...

[Janyce Helen Van Es]

This comes to me as a protest poem for conventionalism and conservatism. It doesn't have to be from a gay standpoint either. Some of us straight folks have the same attitude.

Lot's of metaphores-