sleep curved miles of patched dead boys into me like a scythe.
their quilts were not mine to sweat through,
to drench nightly with my self.
but i cried out anyway.
said i needed stained warmth more than coffins ever could.
bare as they were.
prodigal as they were.
i turn aside in bed. i sweat it out.
sleep handed me its crowded city plots and boxes of
one-way ticket disownment boiled down
to an art exhibit of photographed bodies.
black and white bodies. end of life bodies.
i tore them into manageable halves.
their varied human pieces quilted themselves together onto the floor.
their eyes floated to land at my shoes.
i stared.

yet it was sleep who drew in
the fluttering array of lost bandanas dyed with every coy color
present on the rare days here
that always smelled more like mornings,
the colors peeking like barefoot children just around the corners of their smirking, drowsy city avenues after rain.
sleep dreamt me an after hours carousel.
the revelry of skintight garbage bags
brimming over with ****** boys.
lovely boys.
boys with a gleam.
faceless baby boys with sores like eyes,
full of their junk they
treasured, fondled, kissed
the little pound of flesh that was theirs,
they gave freely, bait and tackle
to swallow whole.
dust bowl dumpling soft.
pulsing expectance.
those skins underneath you’d discover pressed to an eternity of sorts
between two slurs of the same brick,
that its nightless club grime
mumbled disco sickly to me & him.
and i’d be on my knees.
by a bed, a river, a quilt, a pew, an avenue, a grave.
whatever useless dreams may come,
i always find myself there.
already knelt in every way i couldn’t possibly comprehend.
gravely, maybe beautifully-
beside another slumbering boy
too distant from life not to reach for.

1000 years have gone and went

What was Music to my ears
Is now

aids to my eyes.

if five minutes where dem
last five minutes of my life

if i died
in five minutes
i would

kiss my kid
hold on to my wife i'd
call my mom

forever
forever
forever

i wouldn't write a bit
i wouldn't eat a bit
i'd have lots of ***** though

i'd trip
i'd get scared

who would not?

placeless

Farrokh Bulsara a.k.a. Freddie Mercury
British singer, songwriter known universally
Confirmed he had AIDS and then died the next day
His music through Queen still rocks us all the way

Came a man from Zanzibar named Farrokh
Whose tastes were both flamboyant and baroque
For fame he was ready
Changed his name to Freddie
After his death millions still love this bloke

A Heathrow baggage handler prior to fame
Wrote a song about his favorite cat, Delilah by name
In his personal life he was very shy, gentle and kind
His life and times are “guaranteed to blow your mind”

Try learning that
You very first love
Is druggie
And has ***
When she used to be so brilliant
And loving
And full of life
When you two had
So much in common
That is pain
Right there.

“Maybe by a minute,
might’ve been a day.

Either way I escaped it,
was lucky either way.

Was it a random choice,
maybe geography?

Not sure why I escaped it,
why I live on to see.

The scourge that decimated,
took all that talent away.

Why did I survive it?
What am I left to say....

that has meaning or heft or gravitas for days?

Not sure what to make of it,
questions running through my mind.

I only know that I escaped it,
***+, not yet the deadly kind.

Maybe by an hour,
who am I to say?

A.I.D.S. - the affliction of a generation, will it ever go away?“

I hope she gives you AIDS.
That'll teach you to **** anyone again.
I hope your **** falls off
I hope you're laying in a hospital bed where you
think of me before you close your eyes one final time.

Oh, did i mention I hope you get AIDS?

Today, I do not die
for in our time we have seen too many taken
Waken in me are their souls

Today, I will not die
for Frank, for Russell, for Betty June
too soon, too soon, my friends

Pay attention, I cannot cry
for Jeffrey, for Paul, my first kiss named Ray
They, who left amidst it all

Would not wish me to shed a tear
Be here, be here and know their names
James, and Donny and Danny, the twins

Great possibilities gone forever
We, hardened more as each dropped off
check off each name and know

Nelson and Dean, Tony and Roy
Arturo, whose own survival story was cut short
Stuart, who never had his proper farewell

Toned down tears may well up
Still, do not give up for they watch us now
How could they be forgotten?

For Trashina with her unbridled moxie
for John whose brilliance matched how foxy
a paradox, never understood

Whoever you've known
Whoever you've loved, give undying respect
as wrecked were their lives for ours to survive

Out-and-out trials they saw
Shall have my most undying respect
My undying respect for them all