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Lavender Menace

I remember catching glimpses of it growing up,
brazenly displayed on the shelves of little indie book shops –
Butt Magazine,
a title so queer and unapologetic my pulse raced.

the covers graced by models captured raw/hairy/nude and always smiling unabashed.
long before I knew I was their brethren,
they called out to me,
artists, poets, musicians, all queer men.

and now that I have grown
the time has arrived like a rite of passage,
a collection of their greatest hits living on the coffee table,
all my very own.

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tenderness

soft slow kisses
our hands interwined, holding onto the moment our cells meet
skin caressing skin

when those compassionate eyes lock in with mine the tides rise, the sun sets, the city stands still

adventure with you takes form in multitudes
a trek through the wilderness, a trip across the country, an afternoon letting honest lips betray secrets

no mystery in our love, it overflows like the big brass horns on an Ella Fitzgerald tune

arrives warm and sweet like bubble baths and dinner paired with merlot over candlelight at home

in the end it all comes down to this, you’ve enraptured me in with your boundless tenderness

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Love Letter

no longer waiting patiently for access,
all dressed up and gunning for it.
no longer craving attention,
all grown up and swimming in it.

years of bruised elbows and broken hearts to transcend to these heights,
bask in the glory of all this self-confidence.

dark skin and deep brown eyes, born in the fire,
quick wit, cold style, let it envelop the world.

kiss him in the streets of San Francisco, in alleways in New Orleans, on the beaches of Florida,
and hold back nothing.

two lessons, trite but true – not a thing can hurt you without your permission, and this life is what you make of it.

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It’s Fall Again

get carried off like carrion
arms limp, eyes pried open
gawking at the waning ground

floating free
clouds sliding past your feet
blood still hot and dripping from you

from scene to scene in vivid color
mistakes may appear larger than triumphs in the mirror
try not to be too alarmed

died to feel the burden of someone else’s thoughts,
the heat of passion, the shame of lust
rebelled a thousand times just fall in line, eventually

laughing at all the men you once thought you wanted to be
there are no bright lights here, no angels
only imperfect beings doing their best to survive

seeking refuge
seeking love
seeking meaning

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Atheist Baptism

Two steps forward, one step back
paths divide like cells
all we sinners dressed in black
ringing mourning bells

stayed for a minute, in the
soft glow of the light
poised yet full of yearning
passion about you, hot and bright
desires disconcerting

We were two, then one, then two again,
as if we never even started
but that’s the flow of life
here one day, the next – departed.

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Currents

nothing drives you, faster, harder
than desire for the truth,
for some respite from the monotony of living.
breathe in/breathe out,
laid out on the altar,
all wrapped up in linen and adorned with spices.
caress my skin and feel my very cells flow through your fingertips,
fire in your kiss, yet sweet softness,
every second like water – devoured before it’s cherished.

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Ode to New Orleans

Strolling down Bourbon Street, centuries of pain and beauty beneath our feet,
Dancing on the heels of the greats to a rhythym the city seems to make from out of nothing,
en Louisiane,
à La Nouvelle-Orléans,
We’re alive, like the jazz, and smoke, and black magic floating through the air,
we’re wild, we’re free.
I love you, I love you, Je t’aime, Je t’aime,
Down by the Bayou, drunk on Rue Dauphine, on St. Charles Street,
Tracing the footsteps of Degas,
of Hemingway, Capote, Williams,
Sweet city beneath the sea,
Hold steady, hold on tight.

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1,000

severing ties
after years spent roaming gardens, galleries, dive bars and billards halls,
a thousand cigarettes and secrets spilled in alleyways between us,
telling me exactly how much the world owes you,
recounting everything you’ve done to deserve what you have,
confessing your darkest sins,
proclaiming your innocence,
raving about your talents, hopes, dreams – disappointments.
I was your shoulder,
your brother, your blackhole.
You were my Brutus.
This isn’t the first time and it wouldn’t have been the last,
This isn’t the first time and what a drain to have to put your pieces back together again,
This isn’t the first time, but the difference is,
I’m wrapped in soul-encompassing love now,
so for all I care, you and the rest of your world can go straight to hell.