let’s live suddenly without thinking

under honest trees,
                        a stream
does.the brain of cleverly-crinkling
-water pursues the angry dream
of the shore. By midnight,
                                a moon
scratches the skin of the organised hills

an edged nothing begins to prune

let’s live like the light that kills
and let’s as silence,
                            because Whirl’s after all:
(after me)love,and after you.
I occasionally feel vague how
vague idon’t know tenuous Now-
spears and The Then-arrows making do
our mouths something red,something tall

the title is meant to be ironic
enough to draw the attention
of the easily offended and
dramatic internet users
who happen to cross this
poem.

it's ironic because 'Gay' & 'Bible'
usually come in contention;
words unfit to modify the other
a neon g-string preist is odd
but it ain't necessarily
so.

I explained this.

A sign of the times,
It's my crisis
I'll exist if I want to.

Mary, the grief is inconsolable
It still all seems so surreal
There hasn't been the time or chance
To sort through all I feel
It's a mix of love and pain
It's the bond we've shared so deeply
It's accepting that your gone
And it's feeling all of this completely
I'm mourning at this moment
A friendship of 26 years
Only a few days have passed
I can find relief only in the form of tears

Yet I know that better days will come
The strength of hurt will lessen soon
This will scar my heart forever
But soon I'll sing a different tune
This hurt will always be here
But I don't have to live in pain
I'm going to pack up all we've shared
And move it all onto memory lane
Here we can be neighbors
Theres no chance that it can end
You'll forever live beside me
As a sister and bestfriend

I'm going to drop this in your casket
So you can read it when your free
Just know that the 32 years that you lived
Has had a lifelong lasting impact on me
Although your person may be gone
Your soul will never leave
Our souls will forever be connected
And that's what I honestly believe

This will be my strength to overpower
To help this all digest
It's only the physical part of you
That must be laid to rest
The only difference is
Our conversations now end with an Amen
Theres no need for a goodbye
Because I know we'll meet again

the lady has me temporarily off the bottle
and now the pecker stands up
better.
however, things change overnight--
instead of listening to Shostakovich and
Mozart through a smeared haze of smoke
the nights change, new
complexities:
we drive to Baskin-Robbins,
31 flavors:
Rocky Road, Bubble Gum, Apricot Ice, Strawberry
Cheesecake, Chocolate Mint...

we park outside and look at icecream
people
a very healthy and satisfied people,
nary a potential suicide in sight
(they probably even vote)
and I tell her
"what if the boys saw me go in there? suppose they
find out I'm going in for a walnut peach sundae?"
"come on, chicken," she laughs and we go in
and stand with the icecream people.
none of them are cursing or threatening
the clerks.
there seem to be no hangovers or
grievances.
I am alarmed at the placid and calm wave
that flows about. I feel like a ***** in a
beauty contest. we finally get our sundaes and
sit in the car and eat them.

I must admit they are quite good. a curious new
world. (all my friends tell me I am looking
better. "you're looking good, man, we thought you
were going to die there for a while...")
--those 4,500 dark nights, the jails, the
hospitals...

and later that night
there is use for the pecker, use for
love, and it is glorious,
long and true,
and afterwards we speak of easy things;
our heads by the open window with the moonlight
looking through, we sleep in each other's
arms.

the icecream people make me feel good,
inside and out.

i looked up some old poets here
and noticed they have gone
ive also done an absence
myself
not the only one

we come here to
exchange a thought
ours spirits get renewed
I wouldn't feel quite this way
if your poems i hadn't viewed

I wait, untouched.
The polished road beneath my feet
vibrates with anticipation.
I look into the pitch black cave
And see the lantern burn
Brighter and brighter.
It burrows through the darkness
With a familiar fury.
With the desperation of a child,
I lean over the stripe and
Contemplate myself.
One misstep,
One careless bump,
And my fate would be decided.  
The ground shakes under me
And the underground wind sweeps my body back
I am pushed once again onto mortal soil,
And am afraid of myself.

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

Keeping the covers over your
eyes in the morning never hides
the true darkness.
You still have butterflies in your
veins you know.
Or possibly moths,
you've always thought they were beautiful.
Pretty maybe.
Stapling the black curtains to
the wall will never
have the same effect of your
mother standing over you
saying how she wished she
could understand why you 
were so in love with death
and you wished your body were
mountains so people could
glue their eyes to you as
the sun said goodbye
behind your head.
That was your funeral. 
You still walk around and leave 
fingerprints like the coffee stains
on my teeth.
You just so happen to leave
scales everywhere you step.
Leaving the same line from your bedroom to the bathroom
where you've probably shattered
the mirror with how your heart
felt like crushing your chest plate
but settled.
you spent so much time on looking
out of windows you became one,
knowin there is a fire burning
inside of you but your biggest 
fear is never being consumed by it.
I love you and everything so much
right now
and it's still not enough.
T.L

a touch of some humility may put you in your place
reveal the inconsistencies you thought you could erase
the kind of metamorphosis that colors on your skin
and turns it into something rather gossamer to spin

there  cannot be another you and nothing can compare
you're free to weave a web of what you want, as you so dare
the only thing that will affect the qualities you keep
is what you store inside your head from everything you see

the doors you close and open up are actually your eyes
the things you see make up the tree that either lives or dies
but this is taking far too long, perhaps I've said too much
yet isn't that the very thing that begs the human *touch

the thing about addiction
is that a person
can be rid of it for
years, then relapse at any
moment of exposure
to their poison

(and this is what loving
you feels like)