The way I expressed it didn’t fully
make sense to my dearest
who only likes men.
It's never sat right to me
the pride of a parent in their straight child's love life,
the "don't ask don't tell" for a gay daughter
I used to see red as a fad that
had passed and a warning that I’m
not desired;
But I’m seeing clearer now,
Rose-colored glasses might
actually bring life into focus.

We're all fruity and nonconforming
girlfriends and boyfriends and partners each
Others cringe hearing "queer"...
Yet there’s something more in it:
We don't have an explicit gaze,
We have possibility, and the subversion of male eyes.
So I’ve always been nearly regal like The Lady of Shalott, or Lady Lilith,
The Birth of Venus,
Flaming June,
The Accolade— and I
like *** and I
feel wanted and I
am a commodity--

Don't a man look at me but
I will take a boyish girl's gaze
only her eyes focused on my *******—
Sleep over after the first date, for a change,
And remain soft in shape
She murmurs a lover’s desires:
Wear your identity on your sleeve,
In the curve of your back, on the scent of your hair and upon your hips, which invite her hands.

Once, I said "let's make it cinematic
Like that one *** scene that's in Mulholland Drive"
But now: "Touch me, baby"
It's finally the normal way.

the far edge of your love
rushes into me
like small increments of sugar
stirred into my coffee cup

it is the edge of things
i most desire

golden and violet clouds
settling just above the sea at sunset

the dive into the deep
green sea
and then the slow rise to sun

the far edge of your love rushes to me
like smoldering embers
waiting to be the fire once more

it is the edge of you i most desire
like the end of a ridge looking down
into the clouds below

the far edge of your love
rushes into me
and it is the edge of your love i desire
the perfume of pale blue flowers
the elusive summer captured in your smile
and l'appel du vide

her sneakers wrapped around a telephone wire

"tall stone monoliths and crumbled walls
hell is not a physical place
it is a spiritual realm

and this city of locked hearts
a prison of sorts
without barb wire," Kate tells me,

"and the high wire walkers
and the dice tossers
and the lonely ones...
all in search of the lost song."

"I want to sing songs
and dance far from this desolate stage,"
I'm telling Kate,
"I envision myself a tragic figure."

a tender smile and,
"who, Hamlet, Walter White?

we're walking down sunset avenue
occasionally passing other failed animals.
silent howling and teeth hidden in our
lost hearts
those parts too delicate to display
except in anger, rage, and want.

and my love touches in me places
I don't want to feel
and I love her like the mad hatter
loves alice.

it's summer.

we smoke a joint
and we're walking on the boardwalk.
we past the arcade
and a song is playing
and as we walk
down past the coffee shop
a different song is playing
further, another song.

"never tangled or twisted,
how do you do it?"
I asked her.

a serene smile
and Kate says,
"my life is quicksand
struggle you die
relax you float,
you survive."

her blue eyes
bright
my reluctant Cinderella laughs softly
and another song is playing
and i move closer to my heart.

he had
the *******
tatooed on his cheek
above the scar,
whispers when he talks,
and people listen...

the edges worn
on the black and white photo
he fondles in his hands...

he walks passed the tombstones
collecting the bouquets of flowers,
gardenias, some violets, and finally red roses
kneels
places them gently on her grave

she was the prettiest cop
that ever arrested him...

passed the ******* tattoo
above the scar
one longing tear
forever falling...

i just met a ******* the floor
of a stall when i opened the door.
she cried, "he's a punk!"
then threw up, clearly drunk.
... i don't have to go anymore.

ever since mankind had brains
we've been trying to turn them off.
yes, that was written on beer
but i think it's about critical thought.

my hips, my ***, the insides of my thighs
Don't need to give her tips
because they're true, already tried,
And she asks without a word
(i never knew consent to be so smooth)
I've never had a lover
just a love
Now *** is never 'wrong'.

Then there I was, excited-
The question hit me straight-
"are you queer now?"
No, I'm with a girl, she's lesbian bait;
Don't criticize her anatomy.

Who stole my life

Which starched white
Matronly apron
Dropped a basket into
***** Thames-sordid Times

Who rode my Charger
Bedded my Princess

Who drank dry the
Dank cellar of my
Being?

And why