It’s only a short straight hill
(First Poem.of the Year)

“I'm 69, newly homeless, and can't wait to start the journey of a creative life after being asleep for so long. It's only a short straight hill and I'll be on a path into a new life.”

Jeremiah B Xxxxxx Jr.

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it is
4:11am
on the
first day
of a new
year.

a year
is a unit;
mathematically
measurable,
defined,
calculable,
divisible
by seconds,
minutes,
hours & days,
all artifices,
mutually
acknowledged.

you,
& others,
remind
me too easily,
that the
creative
is the only
path
to endless,
(a unit immeasurable)
reinvigorating
life.

your fragrant
optimium optimism
is stun
gun overpowering,
the ill defined,
but instantly
understood,
immeasurable
distance,
you foresee
to life better is
conquerable!


”only a short straight hill”

imbues me to lift
head, heart, arm
& unloved dried ink pen,
to pen,
to unpack,
to speak,
of all that
needs climbing,
over the
artificial lines
of the first unit
of time:

a new year.

thank you.

Sun Jan 1 2023
NYC

Baby boy!
Pretty little thing,
your flesh
is So divine!
Oh yeah,
that's right;
I like to watch it -
i like to watch your flesh:
subcutaneous fat
padding tender hips
Shifting on a creaky framework of bones.
So beautiful,
so divine,
so delicious -
I will have you for my own, Straight Boy,
I will eat you,
piece
by
Piece.
First,
your liver,
then,
your Brain,
and finally,
I will devour your confused little heart;
I will bite through the muscle;
and you will watch on
as Blood that pumped
through a brain that pushed away thoughts of hesitant homoeroticism,
and a ***** that rose
For me - INCUBUS!!! -
dribbles down my chin...
lifeless!

Though no stick
In the forest
Is perfectly
Straight

But are
Broken
And bent
And deteriorate

A Man
Comes around
Who loves
To create

And He takes
The crooked
And draws
Something straight

.