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Where goes I when the night is moist

By David E. Patton

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Table of Content

The torso of silence……………………………………..4


Pure sex remains………………………………………………………….5
This grievous brew of complaint…………………………………………………….6
Black skin white mask and the nonbeing of the blacks……………………..8
At the bar social in Memphis the men gathered ……………………………………..13
When my hands are naked………………………….14
You can buy reffer …………………………………………………16
You aint got no water to hold you……………………………………………..18
Fortunately my………………………….19
His eyes were sullenly …………………………….20
He lifted up his thighs……………………………………..21
I was sitting…………………………22
The Pick Up…………………………………………………………………..23
O where, O where…………………24
My leg fled………………………………………..25
Here my lover………………………………………………………26
1981 Boulder CO.............................................................27
They sat leaning their backs……………….29 2
He will have me wounded ………………………………….30
There was no work for him to be had ………………………………..31
It was a week ago now…………………………………………………..32
Love me till the grave…………………….33
Here in the old blackness of my skin………………………34
What I wanted in my youth…………………………………………….35
Love is not a seasonal crop……………………..36
Why I want to have sex with poets………………………..38
The man means more to me……………………………………………41
A new bar has opened down the streets ………………..43
When approaching a strange man…………………………………44
My stud turns tricks just to me………………..46
I remember well when I did hide……………………….47
I once had a man……………………..48
O substance of the man…………………………………………..49
I left my fingerprints……………………..51
I left my finger prints………………………………………..53
Where goes I when the night is moist…………………………..55
Baby boy……………………………………..56
My soul goes naked through the streets………………………….57
I remember night places……………………………..58
Crass me with………………………………………..60
Valiant men………………………………………………………..63
We held hands………………………..68
Love Poem for Rough Trade……………………..72
Penetrate the flesh…………………………………………….75
The total reality of the truth…………………78
For indeed my needs are strong………………………….80
Once I was in love with youth……………………..82
Simply put…………………………………………………………………83
This affair of the heart…………………………..84
Come on home baby……………………………………………..87
I have seen………………………………..89
One little, two little, three little men…………………..92
Where O where…………………..93
Wisdom’s seeds………………………………………………………….94
Fare beauty black and bold………………..96
I sleep in the man…………………………………98
We held hands ………………………………………………..100
This message……………………………………….104
Met him again……………………………………………………….108
Something beautiful……………………….110
At the bar social in Memphis the men gathered…………..114
His eyes were sullenly……………………………..115
Atumian Love………………………………………………………116
Love me till the grave …………………………….117
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In the……………………………………………………118
I need no priest to give advice………………………………119
What is love………………………………..121
I want to be nothing more………………………….124
His mood was as light…………………………………………….125
The torso of silence

The torso of silence


Tongue the boat in which
I boat on like shoulder of
An expressed black man
As dark as ink and
South of north this man’s
Man in his marrow rows
Me ashore to the beach
Of his love his stone faced
Love infinite as my race
This black man sucked dry
His stiffed rod of bull’s rules
Enormous as a cry for sex
Bronze men and dirty red
As earth eaten in Mississippi
This gothic man of high grace
Beneath his waist
Resonances of exhaled
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Love and a clergyman’s
Wisdom around his
Neck this man of
Willing arms and effusive
Needs to sex and be sexed
By me with my pharmacies
Hands his hip is a
Temple of alcohol
Protection his heart is
Where I walk above
The sea of his love
His eyes soft as
Cotton flowers.
Pure sex remains

Pure sex remains


In the armpits of horses
Pure space chipped
The skin of dawn
Pure lust is familiar
As on lookers at a fire
That burns away desires
Piece me with your sexual rod
Poke it in my eye pure eye
Pure weather profile
The sexual column of
My voracious needs
And I fold up into
A birth ball when
You are sleeping
At my pure side.
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This grievous brew of complaint

This grievous brew of complaint


That is my body that which to cheat time
This report of speech is a poem laden
On my breath.
I have petition the God that be
As one a lover among men.
I have won a stay to continual
My wit filled ways
At the expense of my humbly sense
Design by a race of dark men
To soon I have reached the noon
Of my precious life wherein
The useless sex of models
Of satyrs bold to
Bare me on their backs bounded
For the holy glory as target
Of all my lust. I have cheated
The wind worth all my wooing
With poetic song heard
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Long ago in the hollow of my ears.
Nature have misplaced me
Man calls me insane by the way
I play the sexual game with
Favorite men, fellows who
Know the taste of my appetites
For black sex held in the light of dark skin
Of all my sense-organ.
I can not be reformed
From loving boys who study
To be men of my race
Keeping pace with an equal measure
As one possessed by time
One with the oneness of
What is greater then I.
With my mutual fancy
And sure of foot
I tread the tin rails
Of the long walk as action
Fueled by holy food.
I the fool, the folly more
The business end of life
As an animal of flesh and bones
Repenting against the Gods
That knows only my name
As one insane and my poetic games I play.
I am a crier, a seeker, an
Ordered mind bent on rhymes
Done by man in the court of Goddesses
That waits to be renewed
In our lives of a six level of a seven layer heaven.
Goddesses once white as doves
Now dark discretion wooing me
To be employed by their service
On my tongue as a giver of joy
And I admit to forgive the details
That I have acquired as an action
From books that I have read
Of books Langston and Essex
And bold brother Beam who brought me from
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My closet into the light
Who untangled the hangers from my hair
Who made me to be bold in the way of my sex
My writ is all he to be seen
A spirit informed by friendship
With the Gods who spirited me away
But I have been forewarned and did
Prosper my aromer of wit
As my natural part to enchant
With a harp of savage notes
Gallant by my breath full of
Lost winds and unfortunate
Footsteps leading to some jackanapes
Of raked wonder freely given under
The glory of the all knowing sun
Itself a driven thing full of cosmic warmth.
Black skin white mask and the nonbeing of the blacks

Absolution of paradoxical reason


Fuel by history of being human
With your handful of the problem
That injustice rules the compatibility
Of inquiry toward the great why
That does not sit right when evil
Is the foreknowledge of God.
Classical creation most influential
Of required humanity will have its due
In the city of the Gods where problems
Of western civilization
Is judged by the color of our skin
The humanistic order of things
Is instanced on racist adulteration
And W. E. B. Dubois of two soul
Frozen in time as a thing divine
Purely lived his point of view
That the soul of black folk
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Is informed by a conservation of the races.
The interplay of being human
The ironic dimension of double dipping
Before the falling over the precipice
Where hell’s fire burns away the white mask
Of black skin when brother who
Studied the sober anger
Never full of their killing their kin
When the heart is absence of love
And the sardonic liberalism of
Equal right is only fraternal.
The black problem is none to sure
Of a white refection of seriousness
Of what is it that blacks want.
The problem itself is absurd
When tenderness is heard
As a construct that emerge
From the Freudian man who has heard
The subjection asked of the question composed of poetic words.
The question of want is the design
Simple seen when we cling to the
What of whites is true.
That they have and will enslave you
As a foreigner of the black truth.
Black study weather schizophrenic
Ontogeny or phylogenic in
Its approached address the sociogenic
Understanding of historical language
And the economic body of being back
Is marked by the dehumanizing
Bridge that we must cross over
The fall of fire called anti-black racism.
When human suffering govern by
The churches that woo the blacks
With promises of an all inclusive heaven
For pain that is exclusive
To our make of skin.
Dante with his inferno of
Poetic grammar and imagery
Of mythpotic vision, yes Dante
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Who knew no black man modern
In their make constructed
The discover of anonymous black heroes
Seen as teacher of western thoughts
The good book of good faith
The normal mode of humanness
The antiblack racism
Seen in whiteness as a portrait
Of failure as rode of discussion
On the philosophical level
The base needs of human reality
Is to work the question of all our
Human engines psychoanalytical
In nature can not transcend
The theorist guide that wins
Its aims achieved through feller
And vise versaly the human phylogenic
Of sociogenic explanation.
Nietzsche sought out the idols and idolatry
Of transformed reality.
While Valéry heed the Marx’s language
Of Gods gone astray with their God like
Quality of the embodies flesh, a dictum
Of the well advanced consciousness
Of blacks attempt to live in the word God.
The tragicomic departure of the reality
Of being a France Martincian mulatto,
A brown boy’s struggle to be black,
A colored colony of Parisian newly arrived
To the tongue of lazy organs of stereotype
Nodding words as black as my considered skin.
I have discovered the linguistically dangerous
Critique and I have spoken whiteness in my youth
While being schooled by Ginsburg in the white way of knowledge
Of bookish means to escape
My black skin. I ambiguity
White-like I the presumed whitest of all the black face men
A masquerade wearing the linguistic mask of the white
I am Prospero lost within
My dream as some interloper
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Knowing the island of science when the white man
Who let me be white just for the night while telling me
That I can bleach my skin and thin my nose
Press my hair and dance the dance of a hole filled soul
An allegory of modern thought
An understanding emerging
To find my way in a white world
Of condition studied in European books
That seeks to school me out of my
Black ways when they found me to be
A good nigger of human limitations.
They who brought me up to the level of his
White benefactors who are bludgeoner
Of arguments and they call me ingrate
Because I will not work the plantation
As their slave caught in the chicaneries
Of their worldly ways.
I go as a spy to seek in their language
I colored their reality as something black
I marvel not at their dominate language
That seeks to admonish me for being
To close to the whiteness when I bleach
My skin as some Michael Jackson
Unwilling to be black and own up
To his dark humanity as recognition
Of being a reflection of the dependency
Of whiteness.
The promise of language is limited
It can not master the inferior
Colonialists who serve to keep
The black man down by the rape of
His white-washed negress without symmetry
Of a holy focused on absence
And the ongoing argument as a case of
Recognition defied as treatment
Of all our relationship with the black father
Of the drama that is hostile and cruel
As World War II dangerous mission
To free the black skin of its manhood.
Papa father allow me to reproach
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The oneness of my soul
Mama mother with your eight celestial children
Read between the lines of the last glory divine.
I find no churchgoers coming to my aid or back to
The fold of its lover of mankind and European
Family with its flaws clearly patriarchal
Failures closely linked as necrotic
African encaged as martially won
As the wooing cause of colonial values
Simply told to the children growing old
Assume imposed situation of
Household female-centered
Away from the African’s values
Of their father’s patriarchal virtues.
The masculine demotion of the
Oedipus complex both wrong
And right of sense structural
Longed for the inhabitants of
Colonizing incessant in the case
Of misogynist and always
Homophobic man who wishes
By the precept of the church
To control my sexuality
Is the color of whiteness manifested
Throughout the sphere of private
Sexual intimacy
When the phallic is legitimacy of the
Order of the flow
From father’s symbolist order
And where is it that childless fathers go
When the public spear
Is private no more.
When the father is only symbolic
In the black community
Where men tend to their castration
Anxieties ass such is the situation
Of their son birthing of love
To which I subscribe
Do I fall when I seek a white lover
As sex object of improvement
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Over blacks, loving them for the whiteness I lack
Enthusiastic toward their white skin
That would rather marginal me
Then let me into the male literati.
Do not get me wrong this is not a song
Of haste and hatred
I am no mulatto mule no donkey mute
Of tongue. I will not turn white
To please you or earn a place in your world
I can not save my soul, I can not eradicate
The blackness within me even though
Self-deception is twofold within
The black soul.

-
At the bar social in Memphis the men gathered
At the bar social in Memphis the men gathered
The blacks the BWMT whites
Someone asked if being black and gay
Was mutually exclusive am I one or the other
He was a trim preoccupied kind of a guy
Dirty red in complexion and what in my youth
was called good hair
I watched them not as one but a poet
and thought wasn’t Jeffrey Dahner that
Guy that ate them boys a BWMTer
What did Mike think of that
We poets must ask such questions
To tell you the truth about you
The ill that eat the flesh of its desires
For dark meat an ancient act of man for sure
The joy of glorious dark 13
Flesh to sex when men are gathered to
Share the fulfillment of their sexual appetites
And the wondrous joy of night
What of the question need answered
When love is a queer fellow of divergence taste
Blacks for middle-class whites we call gay
And blacks Atumians in mind and skin to love
Love has always been working-class
In whom he chose for whom
He sits at many tables and eats his fill full
When my hands are naked
When my hands are naked
They are posed to touch you
To take a pound of your flesh
And caress like there
Is no tomorrow, tomorrow
When the birds dream that
The blossom open
And the opening of a new hour
Is caught on the wings
When the flowers sings their scent
Smelling of spring
When spring has sprung
The birds sing and their songs
Is heard by the sun with its
Secret light hidden in the shadow
That can not follow you 14
With out light, it is lost in the darkness
Where neon with its frizzy gas
Mother the color of grass
And blind roses the color
Of the sun soon lose
Their wants of naked hands
Full of beach sand
With waves of naked hands
That caresses your thighs
When the gulls cry out
That they are the waste
Management of doubt
When the waves carry you out
To the sea’s deep unforgiving
Depth and your body is lost
For weeks at a time
Until it is given back
With wash-up hands
Naked as smooth sand
Dreaming of being glass
Made by the sun’s naked hands
That burns the day away
When the gray under belly of clouds
Willing to fall its heavy load
Unseen into the sea
Yes when the clouds feed the sea
Yes, somewhere on the shore
Boys are hunting the beach
With hands naked of toys
Until what is found is a star
Washed up from the deep
To joy the boys who’s joy
Is found half buried
By the month of March 15
My hands are naked of poems
That will not come when
The mind never naked itself
Has forgotten to rhyme in a time
Fit for mining the mind’s depth
Willing to preach of the bounty of the sea
You can buy reffer
You can buy reffer
In Civil Center Park
Across the street
From the state capital
In Denver.
The capital in the 80s
Was a cruising spot.
This is how bold
Gays can be
When they put
Their backs into it.
In matters of the wedding ring
Only the selfish
Will bring themselves to deny
What by love
Should be tied 16
An affirmation
Of the love
We hold
Need be bounded
By a band of gold.
In the park
Tower Grove
You can buy a boy
20 years old
This on the south side
Of my fair city St, Louis
You can cruise
Downtown Binghamton
At state St.
You can cruise
Playlinda Beach
On HYWY 406.
Or Montrose
Bird Park
In Chicago
And city hall
In Medford Mass.
I know where
The boys collect
The sperms of others.
I know my brothers
In the life
Who hunts
The bathrooms
Day and night.

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You aint got no water to hold you
You aint got no water to hold you
I aint got no wogs of words
You aint got no wishes to boat you
I aint got no lover boy
You aint got no love for giving
I aint got no get it quick
You aint got no tongue ready to lick
I aint got no ready dick
You aint got no desires for what is hidden
I aint go no find the hidden places
You aint got no horse to win the race
I aint got no tobacco pajamas
To spit out in the dug out
You aint got your swimmers ready at the mark
I got my lips ready to defend
You aint go no water boy 18
And I aint your kind of man
I aint got no wogs of words
You aint got no wishes to boat you
I aint got no lover boy
You aint got no love for giving
I aint got no get it quick
You aint got no tongue ready to lick
I am got no ready dick
You aint got no desires for what is hidden
I aint go no find the hidden places
You aint got no horse to win the race
I aint got no tobacco pajamas
To spit out in the dug out
You aint got your swimmers ready at the mark
I got my lips ready to defend
You aint go no water boy
And I aint your kind of man
Fortunately my
Fortunately my
Eyes used to find love
Is blind, blindly I wish for the common flesh
I like the common man
To see through and through
It takes the honest emotion he gives
To subordinate to the love in me
My love takes the pro of past struggles
It insistently argue an analogical tale
It needs no fancies
Undecorated goes my love
When it sport an anniversary of beard
Where the jealous that enjoys him
Take control I am made his mate
When the urgency have possession 19
Of him and I am made his man.
His eyes were sullenly
His eyes were sullenly
Established in his face
His brow made a shade
His heart, a pathway
Newly laid
His limbs was
Fettered to his soul
Where one by both
Perfect of eye goes
Coming forth by light of day
He has laid the moon God away
O, moon there is a mighty valor
In your stay, to hang as you hang
To component the night by
I have stabbed at the hearts 20
Of many Gods to see
Which one would bleed
And it was only
The god of the trees
That opened himself
To me
Bleeding is necessary
For the glorification of a deity
A God that can dig down deep
Into the dirt is my current lover
She is mother and father
Of our worth giving of death and birth
And beautiful boys in between
We do not love them green
Let the boys have the young one.
He lifted up his thighs

He lifted up his thighs


With splendor he stretch
His member full of vigorous
He wakened from his rest.

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I was sitting
I was sitting
In your lap
With my hand
Between your legs
It was a wonder that
You could handle me
Go home and take
Care of business
They’ve been calling
All night and all day
I’ll do my time
And decline to
Rat the rap against my friends
Who I services with 22
Their weeds.
The Pick Up

Pardon me
If I stair
But there’s
None here
To compare
With the beauty
That you ware
It is you
I wish to woo
You I wish
To school
If I seem bold 23
In my desires
You to know
It is that
By my age
Games I no long play.
O where, O where
O where, O where
Is my lover man
O where, O where
Can he be?
My heart is longing
To see my lover
Off across the
Wide open sea
Come home my lover
The distend is much too deep
I long my lover
The day we will meet
My lover is a solder
Now docked at the shore.
Do he horse around 24
With some young thing
Or is it only of me that
He sexually dreams-
My leg fled

My leg fled
Under the sheet
Not to touch him
I wanted to be along
On my heighten sorrow
He told me that he was leaving
That no more will he come to bother
This or that for sex
He said that he had joined the Army
And will be off to base training

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Here my lover
Here my lover
Here I am
Willing to be your
lover man
I cupped your flesh
In my hands
Call me your
Lover man
Here my lover
Here I am
Willing to be your
Lover man
I kissed your lips
As only I can
My lips remember 26
The full form of my
Lover man
My attentions are good
They can withstand
The hash love of my
Lover man
I take him grand
For only he can
Take the love of love
That I give to the man
Here my lover
Here I am
Willing to be your
Lover man.
1981 Boulder CO.

for Allen Ginsburg

I’m thinking back


To the days that I
Smoked clove cigarettes
Drunk warm sake wore a
Black beret and
Took peyote
I was looking
For something that I found
Away of likes minds

We gathered around
A great old gay poet Allen 27
We were mostly boys
As he liked it
And some gave their sex
To honor him
He said to us all
Call me Allen
He invited me to
Stay at his
Up state farm
To spend the summer with Peter
And finish my play
Of a young poet’s stay
At the apartment of his teacher
Those were Naropa days
In the foothills of Boulder
Those were days that Rolland
Hustled on the 16th street Mall
Between classes on
Dadaism and surrealism
It was the winter
Of 1981 and the
Snow had melted
A day a go
The Colorado sky
Was slightly chilled

I have know great men


The four-eyed youth of the Beats
All grown up into a respectable man of letters
And the older stately Burroughs
The joker Corso and the silent Peter
Reading his poem about apples 28
Ann Waldman taught me how
To read my poems with confident
That they breathe
To direct yourself
Into the poem with
With every breath,
to perform the poem.
They sat leaning their backs
They sat leaning their backs
Against an old mulberry tree
I was in Forest Park for a poem
They were men of fair skin
They wore matching rings
The closeness of their touch
Was generous
There was an ease about them
Like old lovers grown accustom
To the comforts of love.

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He will have me wounded
He will have me wounded
By his, love me, that he wishes
To keep under cover
But my love is a flame
That lengthens its growth
As to let everyone know
That now I am in love
He smolder under his lid
Of the proper station of a man
I will not go back into the closet
Where in its darkness grows
The weeds of a hidden love
I would rather that my heart
Be absent of the smell of the flesh
Absent of the heart that some men keep 30
Just for the week end
These part time lovers
Half-down, half-low as to let none know
That they have found a love that the hands
Can grow accustom to, I am not for you.
I do not accept your wounds.
There was no work for him to be had
There was no work for him to be had
He knocked on every door on the street
That he would be engage for $200 a week
But he was left to play cards in the club
Where the older men would gather
They loved to see him coming
He brighten their days
With his handsome look
And gentleman ways.

31
It was a week ago now
It was a week ago now
That I finished the painting
Still I study it in detail
The rosy red wine color
Of his shirt gives an
Under color to his chin
I dispensed with the vest and tie
And wild his beautiful curly hair
His gray eye commands
His face entirely
In its voluptuousness
When I was doing his lips
I thought, what beautiful
Lips do he wish to kiss.
Painting isn’t about
32
The exactness of the would be
Object
A copy, no, it is about
The newness of the thing
Of what it was that inspired you.
Love me till the grave
Love me till the grave
Is the last place
Where we will meet
Rest in peace
You fallen warriors
In the cause of manly love.

33
Here in the old blackness of my skin
Here in the old blackness of my skin
Is the ancient wisdom of man on earth
Here is the freedom that I have come to know
Here is the destiny of what I remember
What wrap you against the cold
What of the body of a man that blow
The self-empowerment that we throw
From out brother to brother pain
Planted in the intellectual ground
It sings ‘Black man, black man what do you know’
Here is the conviction of glorious
Sexual pleasure of self-awareness
Here is the absence of fear
Here is the confession of medicated tears
And a battered spirit that far go
34
Here is the empty stomach of morning
Here to the self-destruction of the Gods
Here to what is odd and what feminine independence
A man can come to know
Here is the pleasurable masculinity that I adore
What I wanted in my youth
What I wanted in my youth
Was the red found in orange
The yellow of old men’s eyes to love me
The blue breath of dogs ready to attack
The back bone of a night long in the summer of my hands.
What I got was the brownness of my skin,
To dark to be let in by blacks and whites alike.
They said, ‘go and loose yourself
In the thin air of a discarded breath.’
The blushing honey-color boy with red hair
That once loved me, that kissed me with
His closed eyes has long since turned a
Trembling pale ash color before he went
Away into the older order of his age. 35
Love is not a seasonal crop
Love is not a seasonal crop
The weather we can’t control
Tend it well and well it’ll grow
The weather will and unknown how or why itself impose
Weather it with all your will, those it always wins
For of itself in time weather must be spent
Sometimes its only slight damage done
That we must amend
If it’s a total ravish, bend down and plant again
For earth and hearts are glad to give
An equal yield of what’s putted in

Deep within the root zone there waits


Within the branches also a soul sleeps 36
So too within a seed sleeps green stalk’
Leaf and fragrant sweet,
Waits in turn upon earnest earth
In its ancient journey
Pushed and pulled without pause round, round
The sun to reach this point where St. Louis’
Birds ever earlier wake to greet,
To sing that St. Louis is rounding into spring.

Deep within the root zone there waits


Within the arms and hearts also
So too within the lungs lie lumps of ready songs
To signal the approach of love with
Low in the toes, in the ankle, the hips
In the belly that familiar feeling, that knowing twitch
That twine betwixt two to come
Eagerness to give, to feel love breaking ground
Extending itself in air around
Absorbing in and giving off,
Feeding to be fed
Swelling both heart and head
With lusty lyrical language long for the licking
For caressing of ears and tongues
Tones to attract bees to our sweetest of spots

Out of a field that seems to have died


Brown in wet rot or dry breaking to powder
There come the resurrection, love that once bloomed
Once again cause the dance of direction
To distills honey from nectar, 37
Flower from seed deep in the root zone
All is waiting.
Why I want to have sex with poets
Why I want to have sex with poets

Their hands knows the moment of a million sound


…Words fall hard to shatter, recollect into some other
Hubble bubble words hover above the scent of an emotion

There tongues transverse hidden lands


…Short leaf pine, rough bark of cinnamon- red scales
Dark-blue green needles devise against the
Evanescence blue evening of toungleville.

Their breath smells of the alphabet


…Ox water Alpha and beta before gamma
Damp or fluent as lambda, flesh coffins
Hissing young grass after taste of decompose tress. 38
Their eyes see what other ignore
…Our minds blacken by its own shadow
Enclosed as the acorn of over cup oak
As sycamore ball borne on the bone of our spine

They will bear witness to their own thoughts


…If everything could be said there will still remain
A handful of words, flocks of captured blackbirds
Endless circling for a way out

They come to except earth’s simple truth


…Earth produce no waste of stone, water, bark, flesh
Or bones. All is consumed, consummation of ones own
Importance, death impregnate life eternal.

They freely give it to you


…Man eat air eternal, a shared plate
Drinks from the same earthen bowl
Spilling our water with water of all that flows.

They are spies of the Gods


…Knowing of what going on
Beneath the dine size flowering moon, perplex
Expression looking down on St. Louis.

They ware a simplistic cover 39


…No return from nature, no separation but
Imagined superiority
Shows extent of human ignorance.

They are earth centered


…Earnest earth own nothing but itself.
In sleep we breathe as earth breathe innate
Life is whole owning to itself alone.

They masquerade
…As mesquites, cat, as moon, as jay, as tress
As transmitter and antenna insects, as banjo
Or lyre, as micro cosmic vision focused on an eye.
Man for woman each for the other pleading.
They are forever examining, poking eyes into emotion
…See Aluriste and Antler, Patchen and Poe
William and Whitman, Ginse and Gun, Vorhes and Emily
Rys and Bye, Delgado and Lorca, Hughes and Hayden and Kent Johnson’s eye
Translating Nicaragua poetry

Poetry is emotional
…There is no shelter from the confusing
Emotional weather that governs
The landscape of our mental garden.

40
The man means more to me
The man means more to me
Then the bold bodacious boredom
That bites the bit that binds
The history of his high honor hurled
To the high heaven of hours
He is the last love to woo me with
Words of wisdom wrought by wild
Wants that lead to the moist
Matters meant to mind the speed
Of his love making its way
Pass the whirl wind
His love is an escape from
Farm hands, hands hard
And honesty he offer
Hands of hope down the hall 41
Pass hands that help and
Hinder, whole hands
Hunting hands count the hours
Man’s hands heal the sex that is within me.
The tsunami of a chill enter the land
And fold fast the icing of wilder leaves
Hands that encased by chill’s degree
But he is the melting of the love
Of warmth will fully winding
Its way forth with wind
His hands are those of a lover
A fucker of men he win.
His womanly willing hands
Stands the plan made of plots
Pulling the pull forth pass
Places laid out in the pocket
Where love pass away.

42
A new bar has opened down the streets
A new bar has opened down the streets
It’s called the Fox Hole an old name
For a gay bars as names goes
I looked through the window
Within there was a mannequin
A diva mannequin without her clothes
Mannequins have no pubic hairs
Or dicks to bugle out there.
They look unnatural in their clothes.
I’m sure the ancient Greeks if they had
Would not have left out the most esencial parts
Of the human’s body and I do not mean the hands.

43
When approaching a strange man
When approaching a strange man
I steal a look at his crotch
And when I pass him I look back
To see the make of his butt
I have become a master on packages
On the prick fit snug as a bug.
White men’s butts are squared
White women butt’s slop down
From the back and cap.
Black women and men butt’s
Rise out like twin half moons

44
My stud turns tricks just to me
My stud turns tricks just to me
He shed his clothes just for me
He blow lake a fisherman at sea
Just for me
He offer me his trident and pearls
Just for me
He offer his sumptuous balls
Just for me
He explode like a volcano
And love like a beast
Just for me
His wild impulses are supreme
Just for me
And he gently bite my nipple with a laugh 45
Just for me
I come on his belly and he rubs it into his skin
Just for me
I am privileged to stroke his snake
For it seduces me.
It takes courage
It takes courage to be gay in Americus
Be you courageous in your love
It takes fortitude to be gay in Americus
Be you formidable in your love
It takes boldness to be gay in Americus
Be you bodacious in your love.

46
I remember well when I did hide
I remember well when I did hide
My love of men that would not be denied
In secret places I would spy
Out the ones whom with me did hide
And we made love in the shadows of trees
O those was days now long gone
Of secret looks and secret touch
Of men who secretly liked to fuck
Then I looked younger then my age
And this was a saving grace
For men took this man to be a boy
And I was much in demand
And I played on it whenever I could.
Age has nearly caught up with me
Still some wonder why one so young 47
Have a gray beard for I no longer
Shave it away that all can see
The true age of me and I tell
Them up front who I am
A 56 year old man
I once had a man
I once had a man
Who was lovely and sweet
And he came to meet me
When we were in the army.
He fell for me before I knew
That I as he was gay too.
We were each other’s first man
Before us the women we did woo.
In the army some women and men
Are more then friends.
We kept our love a secret
Until our army’s days was done
Then we openly enjoyed our love
In the light of the sun.
For poetry to Naropa in Boulder I did run 48
And after some time he came in search of me.
We loved for 11 years until we out grew
For poetry came between us.
He was making big money with antiques
And he wanted me to quite poetry
And take a job that brought in money
But poetry was my love
And it wished not to share its time
Which left me without a dine
So he went his way and I mine
But my love for him has endured throughout time.
O substance of the man
O substance of the man
O song of sexual joy
Protect me from behind
The shrine where we
Make our love.
I am gratified
By your decree
That you engendered
The love of me
Our love is green
But full grown
Against the fire
That would judge
Us wrongly
We have the love of eternity 49
We are the eldest in the game
We triumph above all others
In our heavenly dignity.
I receive your cock
With its ring that lead
Me to joyous things.
Our love was born
Of the sexual art of earth
Where we have spilled our seeds.
My heart is coming into being
When you do not resist me.
Our body within the body love
Strengthen who we are
And we advance to the
Happiness of place
That is our twin hearts
Our love endures
The hatred that they throw
For our love is an offering
To the Gods that knows
That heavenly is the blow
And dark limbs entwined
When there is no need for speech
This love will not be denied.

50
I left my fingerprints
I left my fingerprints
On his skin and my
Scent on his tongue.
I tight rope walk
Between the moon and the sun.
Skyscrapers are growing from my arms
And the putrid jailer of the morn
Negate he who has the absurdity
Of he who is to come.
I walked in triumph before I was born
And said to myself that I am the one
To teach man how to come when he has won
The love of the holy one.
I have birthed a thousand mashes
And through up all that is swamp. 51
I am the angle of the cum that virtue spilled
When the first God of the storeroom of the sun
Birth the seeds which life first swum from
When water was nearly all that there was.
I raised my drink that earth once drunk
The generosities of all your fun
That no one goes and no one comes
To embrace the greatness of a God born
From the mouth of the fraterual earth.
I am the calamities of your embrace.
I am the prism of wandering light.
I am the miseries clawing at the essence
Of a thirsty man marooned at sea
And I am the man who for a man weeps
In the sensualness of his sleep.
Relentlessly I invent myself nightly
From the bamboo’s comprehensible likeness.
My sons are the men that love the men
And I have birth then all to feel
The significance knowledge that by degree reveals
The veritable night that to sleepers give
The blossom of their misplaced fears
You can recognize me by the mathematical
Shots that splatter the moon and the geological
Undertow that will never jump the broom.

52
I left my finger prints

I left my finger prints


On his skin and my
Scent on his tongue.
I tight rope walk
Between the moon and the sun.
Skyscrapers are growing from my arms
And the putrid jailer of the morn
Negate he who has the absurdity
Of he who is to come.
I walked in triumph before I was born
And said to myself that I am the one
To teach man how to come when he has won
The love of the holy one.
I have birthed a thousand mashes 53
And through up all that is swamp.
I am the angle of the cum that virtue spilled
When the first God of the storeroom of the sun
Birth the seeds which life first swum from
When water was nearly all that there was.
I raised my drink that earth once drunk
The generosities of all your fun
That no one goes and no one comes
To embrace the greatness of a God born
From the mouth of the fraterual earth.
I am the calamities of your embrace.
I am the prism of wandering light.
I am the miseries clawing at the essence
Of a thirsty man marooned at sea
And I am the man who for a man weeps
In the sensualness of his sleep.
Relentlessly I invent myself nightly
From the bamboo’s comprehensible likeness.
My sons are the men that love the men
And I have birth then all to feel
The significance knowledge that by degree reveals
The veritable night that to sleepers give
The blossom of their misplaced fears
You can recognize me by the mathematical
Shots that splatter the moon and the geological
Undertow that will never jump the broom.

54
Where goes I when the night is moist
Where goes I when the night is moist
Like the succulent peach ready to fall from the tree?
Where goes I when there are men to meet
Sweet men ready to be pluck by me
Men moist and willing to give me a taste?
Where goes I when the prophet of my songs
Longs to smear cum full grown
In the domain of all my wrongs?
Where goes I when the sleepless sexual urgency
Is taken over by a hunk with
Blue eyes and coco color hair
Ask me to spill out a rhyme
About the size of his prick?
Where goes I when the sexual beast
Lust for the first drip as sweet 55
As the nectar of the Gods is swallowed
Pass the tongue that keeps to the rhythm
Of in and out and pumb and pumb?
And even science is pointless
When I am pieced again and again?
Where goes I when men squeeze into tight
Warm places of an opening in the skin like the mouth,
The ass, the ears?
Where goes I when the guardian of the unknown
Is pecking with tongue that bring me such joy
As to call the man a boy of unimaginable innocent?
Where goes I when I am arrested in the forest
Full of bombs that will explode its cargo
Of sperms that will be my sons but die
On a white towel of forgiveness?
Baby boy
Baby boy before you lies
Ten thousand days or more
Of joy and pain that is life.
Shall the man come to call your name
I hope that you are strong enough
To answer the call to sex him right and hide not in the night.
I shall do my best to pave the way
That you may walk with such a grace
That all mankind can see
That you without shame
Shall to fore fill your secret needs
As true to nature that made you.
Be you bold as to teach the child
That shall follow behind
And teach that healthy sex is divine 56
And take what little of my rhymes
You find true to your kind
That it may strengthen you
To do no less then I do
When I woo the man after
My own heart, joind together.
Let us not part. I am yours
And you are mine by nature born to be divine.
My soul goes naked through the streets
My soul goes naked through the streets
Where there’s dressed up boys to meet
With enthusiasm they take the fallen hand
Of sea side born blazon men who will and can
Understand the way that we swing.
My flesh is the dullest part
As I am not handsome save my heart
But my soul is the most beautiful part
So much so then the common man
But souls are hard to see
And so I am counted lest when it comes to choosing
A man to woo, you need look deep and not through.
Look beyond the flesh form of me
And see that I offer much to please.

57
I remember night places
I remember night places
The best dark places
Where men grope
Each other behind
Buildings in allies
And public places where
They pretend
Not to mean it
When I am blinded
By darkness I will
Even fuck white men
Pretending that he is some black
Man who refused my love making
In darkness the streets
Without regret accept me 58
And hunting is done
On the edge of danger
I pretend a lot in poems
Alone in my chair at home
Or dreams like looking
Into the mirror of my mind
I have no shame and
By this I am driven
To tell the truth
I keep no secrets
Because I am a poet
Darkness is sometimes
Savage when you
Break the street lamps
And hide to catch
Some unsuspecting
Man by the cock
And suck him dry
And don’t tell him why.

59
Crass me with
Crass me with
Hot lips and tongue
Touch and lick
The cum from
My breast
Grasp my nipple
And I shall relax
Against your
Broad back
And brace
Myself for leverage
Slow swivel
Your hips
And let my
Ass swallow 60
When the zipping is done
You are so
Technical in the way
You come
So particular
And elaborate
In your courtship
This crazy touch
That I give
Is warm as
A smoking joint
Inhaled when you
Shotgun or the
Stainless blaze
That portion
The coke into lines
I am man
Of my age
A divine pumping
Of what a man
Needs and can take
A fearless lover
Of the way
The sex makes
Its mystic lay
Last night when
The light was dying
I slipped into
Into
Your ears my
Secrets and
Then you bandaged 61
Them with
Your breath
Then the shadows
Was wet with dew
And the goddamned
Grace of you
Was beautiful
On my tongue
This is your poem
Comfort as
Old slippers
Or old bath robe
Hanging on
The closet door
You are the vaporous
Warmth of bath water
A glance against
My cock a
Naked darkness
As never to be
Forgot, my focus
My heavenly rock.

62
Valiant men
Valiant men
Push in with pain
Struggle out
And repeat
The reframe
My rendezvous
With the sexual game
Of my purple heart
Total in dizzy
Storms of rain
Keep its forgotten
Heart behind
My black skinned
Armor when
My ready cock 63
Is a weapon
To fuck
The scarlet
Hole torn apart
By a vulgar brain
Overripe with
Nicotine and
My anus sweat
Its musk when
He finger fuck
The nocturnal
Part of me
Heavy breath full of lust
And shirtless
Chest press
Against chest
Grace of Moor
Cadillac
Waits to awaken
A sigh dark
As a knowing
Dream of
The empire of
Sodom abrupt
With lovers
Happy in their skin
No matter
When some
Angel come
To give their sons
Uncommonly warm
To man-sized cocks 64
Hard as rocks
But some comfort
In the hole as if
Fucked by a prick
Of pure gold
And hairy youths
Draped and robed
Brought me food
All the way from Libya
A photograph
Of domestic
Boys with
Their toys
Of peach fug
Chins as
If I was
Socrates
Lung and throat
Hiding out in Peru
Selling cocaine
To street walkers
Who play the game
Of yes dear, yes
I know their names
The boys from
The Amazon
Praising and
Fulfilling
Uncertain their
Youths who dick
Their cocks
With music 65
And loudly I
Comb the curtly
Brown with care
And love make
Them fair
The sweat fall
In its ball
Across the warm
Tender nakedness
Of men who pin
Their soft
Tenderness to
Their moods
And soon we
Slip from bed
And on the kitchen table
Give each other head
And what is caught
In the throat
Is all our hopes
Of never again
Feeling lonely
Cosmic luminous
Communion
Black bodies
Reminisce
Of first time
The moons
Lunar music
Touched my mind
O sweet man of mine
Ripe with desires 66
I will bleed for you
You jazz eyed
You jazz breath
And jazz swat
Of your hips
Praise the music
You make in
Your wake
Passing on
The street
Your face
The grace
Of a thousand
Black men
Lost to history
I have seen
People like you
In the malls
On bikes in
The park
Walking down
The avenue
Winged as an egret
Bound for glory
I have touched
Your dark tights
Seen the
Rough trade
Of your eyes
And endless hot smile
Of desire’s pride.
67
We held hands
We held hands
We cling our clutch
We beautiful men
Who love to fuck
We fresh-faced
We scattered flames
We trespasser
On the sane
We cracked
Mirror of jagged pieces
We bedroom
Of dark revolution
We reformists
Of sexual art
We top and bottom 68
We new masculinity
Of duality
With ready cocks
Hot for soft hands
We tension of assault
We defiance of Gods
And lips of desires
We provide
Moments of nights
Passages into
The new man
Pleasant
We naked
Chances naked
We breath-locked
Together dark lip
To dark lips
Dick to cheeks
We musky men
Meant to please
To tease the rim
Of paradise
Wit the
Consciousness
Of our cocks
Tucked between
The fuck
We loosing it all
The way down
And up the suck
We manly lust
Of flesh and 69
Tingling tension
Melting away
We oozing
Semen breathlessly
And joy of
Jewels
We moaning
Together when
The come is on
The tip of our
Ore cum quick
And rambunctious
As passing cars
Drunk on love
We fresh face
Warriors of our race
Crisp as sexual
Cheer fabulous
As broad nose
And jumped backs
Erect as comets
Passing in the night
We collage
Of history heated
With joy
We twins twined
Circle of preserving
What is holy
And sexual right
We manhood
Of our bodies
We amazed 70
Knife edge
Of desires
And black standards
Of the essence
And brave bodies
Of the black knowledge
Men strutting
Our cries
Of reprise
Yes
We together
Crescent of
Voices caring
To cling together
To our people
That we hunger
For their love
Strong hunger
Of black cause
Strong as a lifetime
Of round bottoms
And high booty
And high yellow
And dirty red
And cut dicks
And fore skin
And nipples
Erect between lips
We glance
Across the bar
Of sweaty
Dance floor 71
We bedrooms
Of summer love
We black as
The berry
And sweet
As the juice.
Love Poem for Rough Trade
Look
With his shirt off
Nice knuckles
Blood red
From the fuck asshole grins
Tightness of ragged edge
Man dick of
Quivering flesh
Sweaty sobs
Laugh you crazy
Loveliness seen
In an empty dream
Crazy love of
Pleasure boys
Muther fuckeus
72
I fuck that nigger
Something crazy
Shooting cum
Of fun geyser
Wet smell of Vaseline
Apple of my eyes
Sleep in peace
Me well
Small thing
Beautiful
In my particular
Ordinary way
Spray me with it
Erupt your raw lust
Wild man
Beneath my tights
Imitation into
The boy’s club
Sustenance of
Weariness as
Misplaced desires
Seen from behind
Gothic eye
Shift your weight
I got a cramp
In my thigh
Ripping overgrown
Sweat slashing
Laughter of leather
And slave’s whip
Knotted rip 73
Flesh and
Glass back bone
Indifferent
To pain
Insane God
Staring at angels
Strutting like
Curly hairs
Childhood
Molested by
Suspenders
Mugged by rolling hearts
My dream witness
The crime of flesh
Timelessness
Is thirsty again
Stretched faces
Instances of
Torrent laurel
On my head
Poet of swallowed
Shoulders wet
With wary sweat
Ignorance can not
Protect the anus
Sun child
Moon child together
In one man’s bed
Giving head
Sixty nine flames of expectation
I fuck the mirror
Image of myself 74
Time to swell
My rest
That’s that.
Penetrate the flesh
Penetrate the flesh
Procreation sharp
As fear
As baby’s fart
Yes their adorable
Shit stinks
Dark men
Hugging the
Bed post
Street light
Beams down
On blond haired
Youth of truth
Selling sex
As revelation 75
I’ll write you a poem
If you suck
Me till I cum
Home alone
Gently up the stairs
Fear that
He is here
Bust a nut
Till I see visions
Of God’s rod
Odd sleep
Weep piss
In the bed
Because of
Sleeping pills
Used to forstall
Dreams of weak men
Stagger
Choke on it
Down the throat
Long thick
Black men
Objects to
White needs
To be fucked
But of course
Hide your
Black man
In the night
Jesus was
Right not
To write it down 76
Convergence
Of groins
Long-for gotten
In dark city
St. Louis lying
Priests of Nebraska
Needs for a black
Revolution in
The sheets
Man power
March the streets
Man power
Forced on women
MS word can’t
Spell cunt
But can spell
Nigger
Cunt of plastic novelty
Distortion turned
Holy atumian
Was weak
Peace.

77
The total reality of the truth
The total reality of the truth
Is that men who love men
Are of much use to enter in
To squeeze between
And shot your juice
To let their warm load loose
To realizes that God got your back
And measure the love of your holy rest.
I speak the truth that inform my life
By glorious God am I right
To keep no secrets in the night
To create my poems of sacrifice,
To birth them bold as oceans
Flows to and fro and clean
Up what it means to love the man 78
As a goal free from the wages of sin.
I know him, I love him, I do adore
And my adoration is because
Whitman spoke in codes
And Crain, sunken deep down below
Hid the love that he did adore.
But let poets no more feel
That what they feel be full of fear
Because of the lies told on our God
Who should be worshiped
With the sexual rod.
This love I speak immortally true
Reaches to the high heaven
To do as we do and resting
Firm upon this truth
The spokes of life’s wheels will turn
All youths to old men full of sexual juice.
I have licked the head
And butt between and play
No codes in what I mean.
Call me names as some surely will do
But they are ignorance of human truth.
Say that I sin it be of no use.
All my auspices is not for you
But to the men strong of limbs and body fair
To woo us by the musk that they ware.
All I seek is to elucidate the weak
To make them strong, to solder on
And therefore I give this dialogue
That praises the ritual of the fuck
With words strong of the cuss
And poetry be damn it can not carry 79
The meaning of my breath,
The inmost essence
Of my swear, I rather be bound for hell
Then hold my tongue in silent.
For indeed my needs are strong
For indeed my needs are strong
My desires last long on the
Sexual tongue and all my wants
Are for you, indeed if I be true
Let me firmly grip you
Bout the hips and plant a kiss
Between your but just for luck
Before the fuck and let my
Rivers of sperms well earned
By the motion that I keep
Bring both of us sexual peace.
For indeed this is how you affect me,
You confirm that I am a man
By our deeds and I name your form
As atumian.
80
Lay beside my rest,
Leave me not along
For by your musk am I made strong.
There is nothing higher then our love
Which is a common call to arms
To defend against hateful ones
Dressed in black robes gowns.
Out of their ignorance
Do our foes come to cut us down
With the cross but out of adoration
Is my pen fit for the fight
for what of love is truly right.
Indeed the Supreme Being
Worship the love of you and me
And heavenly angels sing
This love that once dare not
Speak it name.
Growing in rich soil to bloom supreme
And I irresistible drawn
To your sleep as some
Distinguish river water to the sea.

81
Once I was in love with youth
Once I was in love with youth
When I was one too
But those days are now all gone
By 40 years since last
I saw in the mirror
Such a face as pride
Of my race to be
Son strong and fit
With firm muscles.
These days I am gray
Haired with a belly
But by my poetic vision
Am I now loved as
One wise within my years
That youths are drawled to me 82
But it is the aged ones
The gray beard beer belly
Man of all my cares
Who will attain my old heart.
Simply put
Simply put
His fire form is firm
And fit of dark muscles
And my love for him is immortal
That none can destroy
The make of all my cares
By what heavenly hand was such beauty made
A heavenly artist hand for sure
Fashioned from flesh flesh
Fully grown this make of man
And in my heart have he found a home.
Indeed I grow close to worshiping
With a love that none can question
If they speaks the truth. 83
This affair of the heart
This affair of the heart
A direct prelude
This infatuation
Of the ordinary nature
Of men who love men
This sexual humanity
Never set apart from grief and guilt.
This madness
That makes me weep.
This innocent charm
This rather painful
Endeavor
This call to arms
This sentimentality 84
Of childhood, this boy
Escaped from grotesque brusque fairyland.
This possibility
This sudden ravage
This spinal beauty
This cruel façade
Of being ready to fight.
This secret held in the night.
This human heart
This disease appalled
This womanly manner called
Personal punishment for
The devil’s command.
This fall from grace
And yet this inspired love
This attachment to the cause.
This fantasy of flight
This forever doomed anxiety
This intelligence loneliness
This normality of insight
This abandon power
This consequence of loosing him
This strength within
This paradox of man
This modern artiest-hero
This traditional suffering
This self-tortured of my little dignity.
This simple-minded critic of self
This adorable insight
Yes I am a man of fruitful ambiguity
Irony of strength and doubts 85
Of my conviction of being a major hero
Of like minds.
This self analysis of my
Mind’s conflict with society.
This poetic calling
This blunts calling it as seen
This significant other seen only in dreams.
This analysis egotist of the tragicomic drama
That rules my tiny life.
This alienation of source esoteric
This mind’s symbolic realities
Of angry young men
And witty muddle of adolescents muscle.
This quarrelsome material of poetry.
This confusion of mental blindness
This fallen Catholic crucified
On an embrace of my vision.
This portrait of this poet as talent of
Supernatural religious duty
This impressionistic life of words.
This archetype of the psyche apologize
Of language held in my particular heart.
This echo-latten sensitive sinner.
This propensity for self-expression
When art creates actual life
And the Gods as precocious revelation
Of terror and headmasters of garrulous joy
Nearly judge the beauty of laughter.
This chucking rebellious outburst
Of betrayal awakened by desires of
Emotional refusal.
This sumptuous sulphurous sermon 86
Of my emotional cleric nature
Driving myself insane to gain
The controlled ability to reign
Supreme as a close mouth priest
Come on home baby
Come on home baby
The fight in me is gone
And I was not meant to
Be so alone.
In my sleep I call out your name
And as I sleep I weep in my dreams.
O come on home my heart strong
Felt lover
The nights are too long to be without
Your warmth
The hours to thick
Without balls to lick
And muscles to hold
Firm against me.
I can not go on my dear 87
Come take all of me
I am sweet to your taste.
I am one who waits
Your return so come
Can’t you see I’m
No good to me without you
Take my dick without it has no home
When the long nights
Plays strong as to bind me to its cold
I need you to heat my sheets
I need to loose my needs
And find within you my peace.
Now I say that I love you
And the rivers I cry
Can not wash away my loneliness.
I am sorry if I hurt you
With my love it was not meant for such use
To be cursed be that as it may
Be not through with me
I shall prove to you
That I am changed
In my loving ways.

88
I have seen
I have seen
The fair tender men
In their nature
Of paternal cares
I have broken silence.
As it laid complaisance
Taking in all my consequences
Fancied as the worst of times
By purse strings emptied
Yes broke of heart as some
One spoke wheel new to the cart.
I have been a player of boys
Who ridiculed my wooing
Because I never played
By the rules such fix 89
Is not for me to seek freedom
With a tongue full of cum
Semen wet with sperms
Wagging their oval heads of
Wagging tails.
I am just that kind of man
Who would if I could
Relieve myself by the hand
And spill my juice in a most
Tragic way as if I was in just
To protest myself as one wise
In the know and teller of no sober lies
Taught by the church who wishes
To keep and so called protest marriage
From men like me who will not weep
Man has no enemies other then his
Foes of like flesh and bones his own
Fit and trim they come on strong
Like some taught free verse
Brought from the muse who
Used all her disputes of a
argument to prove her case
That love can wait its reasons of the heart
Torn apart by ready hands finished
With new prays of guiding light
Writ by the light of midnight light as some
Doctrines to live by.
I have seen the boys who ware a ring
Around their cocks
And I have imbibed what was described
As a red grown that she own and
Keep for special nights when the time is right 90
To rue her lips and wig her head and
Ware high heels shoes to strike fast the new transplant
Of an illusionist who just an hour ago was a boy
Her self love is rooted deep within
Her virtues is toward the loving men
Who throws to her tips for a job well done
And I give her matter of praises
And wish to see her come as if I saw the awe on their faces
She is wise and so I comprise to adore her.
She who flourished with great esteem
In ancients days she named
For her witty reframe
Learned from older queens
And I am struck with
Dumb founded love of her tool
She keeps hidden beneath the grown
She and I have a compound
Of business and I must pay
To lay together beside her sexual ways.
So let the muse unfold on my tongue
Poems to woo her by.
Let all my intents be spent
On this singular event to attain
Her love and gain for myself renown
Where others have tried and fell.
Let she decide if my venture
Is true to temper her love
By my sheer design
And bring to bare all my experiences
To woo her fair as one who knows
The score as to project myself
To the cause of attaining from her 91
A little smile noticed by both parties
And she and I shall become
A summary of love divine.
One little, two little, three little men
One little, two little, three little men
I will sex them all as only a man can.
One for my spirit, one for my soul
One for my body that truly knows
That it is ready to kiss them all.
One man black shines and glows
One man black and body bold
One man black sweet with his glory hole.
Here I stand willing and able
To spend my seeds but birth no sons.
One little, two little, three little men
One for the memory of my hands
One for one who understand
One for the loving given to the man.

92
Where O where
Where O where
Has my young man gone
And why O why has
He left me all alone
I’ve search St. Louis
From heaven to ground
To leave me he done
Done me wrong.
If you see a young man
With a red dress on
Will you please
Send my young man home.
O where O where
Has my young man gone
My lips are full 93
Of this heart broke song
If you see a young man
With red rued lips
Fit to plant a kiss
Till the red is all spent
Would you let me know
The direction he went
For I find myself all alone.
O where, O where
Has my young man gone
And why O why did
He leaves me all alone.
Wisdom’s seeds
Wisdom’s seeds
Are unknown
Till suddenly
You hear its song
Of justice, truth and fortitude.
Honor of breath
Will turn to attack
The heart of its tenderness.
Love of knowledge is strong
In the young learning
The ways of the world.
The open heart
Is bounteous with decay
That grows with praise 94
Upon the second thought
And her, yes the mother of human meat.
Within the estate of her body
Is to be found the prudent maid
Who manage the neglect
Of studies when the world
Itself is the class room.
Soon school will be out
For the dying
And the spoiled child
Will learn that he is endowed
To the queen’s delight.
The size of the penis
Do not move me to drop my pant.
I am no footman in the cause.
I smile and that younger child
Pleased and proud that he would be dame
Of womanhood is a model
Of excellent in her conduct
That tryst the mind of some men
But I find this he-she unerring.
I find her sweet in the places
That she keeps taped down.
There is a kind of grace of wisdom
In the drag queen’s walk
A swagger of the hips
Set to motion the lips that would suck
And whisper sweet nothing
Beneath her dress. I have seen her at rest
And must say that I love the way
She look without makeup the pure look 95
Of her hairless chin the smoothness there
She plucks her chest and legs and under arms
So much to do to be presentable to the masses.
Fare beauty black and bold
Fare beauty black and bold
Spare me no nut to flow
Play the flouces and brocades
Of the praise of flesh
Shall I employ you as a toy
Shall I suck in the bed on your
Sexual head
Shall it be slow to flow
With sucking motion course by my tongue
The wind of my mind draws
Strew to see who shall
Win your luck ever ready
For the fuck of hearts as part
Blame for the flame that burns within us.
Let me be your atumian man 96
And understand that we
Both shall 69 blow in turn
Whirling round together
To win the virtue
Of those who knows
That the narrow circle
Of man’s sexuality is
As the current as the breeze
To the senses that taste
The prick with able black lips
At best I attest
As one who knows
That our semen is disposed.
I am humble, I am a pleader
Of dicks deep within my throat.
I have witness the question
Asked of poets who is it that
With God’s blessing we shall suck

97
I sleep in the man
I sleep in the man
I remain awake
In him
What deity is it
That sees dream
Of the man who
Obtain sexual immortality
From my semen
What man gather
His happiness from
The taste of my semen
On his tongue.
Five million sperm cells
Can not fertile the egg
When I deposit them in his hole 98
The seminal vesicles
Is chemically the quantity of my
Ejaculation that is genetic
With foreplay brought on by
Arousal of the pearly white
My semen taste of clean sweet
Pineapple with the consistency
Of a young man’s enzymes
That moves him to come soon
When my organic fluid
Is secreted through the pee hole
And he comes to know the God
Of his soul who is the head of the household
Man is sexual by his nature and I
Know by the precept of the Gods
That the atumian man in his deep dark black skin
Is willing to give all that his semen holds
And I go willing between his legs with a suck
That precedes the fuck full of sweat
That pours from his pores sweet as water full
Of pineapple juice and I have seen the men
Strip to their waist to reveal the treasure of their chest
The hard nipples that poke with a folksy fuss
To be sucked and tongued to arouse their cum
And I did pull down the pants and saw their cocks hanging
Every ready to get hard and swell full of blood
And I was moved to take a mouth full
And I was move to arrange gravity with my tongue
In the motion of the suck that he slapped against my cheeks
Already wet with pre cum an offering of oblation
To the ancestors who remain
Every active and hence is comparable to the seminal fluid that flows 99
Male love is divinely inspired by the love muscle
That is mine kept between my legs and ready to pop its nut
That erupts in the hole pale and pink and boldly ready
For rebirth taken from the fire of all our desires
That burns a hole into the meditation of old.
We held hands
We held hands
We cling our clutch
We beautiful men
Who love to fuck
We fresh-faced
We scattered flames
We trespasser
On the sane
We cracked
Mirror of jagged pieces
We bedroom
Of dark revolution
We reformists
Of sexual art
We top and bottom 100
We new masculinity
Of duality
With ready cocks
Hot for soft hands
We tension of assault
We defiance of Gods
And lips of desires
We provide
Moments of nights
Passages into
The new man
Pleasant
We naked
Chances naked
We breath-locked
Together dark lip
To dark lips
Dick to cheeks
We musky men
Meant to please
To tease the rim
Of paradise
Wit the
Consciousness
Of our cocks
Tucked between
The fuck
We loosing it all
The way down
And up the suck
We manly lust
Of flesh and 101
Tingling tension
Melting away
We oozing
Semen breathlessly
And joy of
Jewels
We moaning
Together when
The come is on
The tip of our
Ore cum quick
And rambunctious
As passing cars
Drunk on love
We fresh face
Warriors of our race
Crisp as sexual
Cheer fabulous
As broad nose
And jumped backs
Erect as comets
Passing in the night
We collage
Of history heated
With joy
We twins twined
Circle of preserving
What is holy
And sexual right
We manhood
Of our bodies
We amazed 102
Knife edge
Of desires
And black standards
Of the essence
And brave bodies
Of the black knowledge
Men strutting
Our cries
Of reprise
Yes
We together
Crescent of
Voices caring
To cling together
To our people
That we hunger
For their love
Strong hunger
Of black cause
Strong as a lifetime
Of round bottoms
And high booty
And high yellow
And dirty red
And cut dicks
And fore skin
And nipples
Erect between lips
We glance
Across the bar
Of sweaty
Dance floor 103
We bedrooms
Of summer love
We black as
The berry
And sweet
As the juice.
This message
This message
Of tongues
This landscape
Of cocks of
Testicles erect
Between lips
Have a history
Of graceful
Little fishes
Radiant and
Self-sealed
The tip tease
Pleasurable
Red-blooded
Its dart 104
With ease
Its muscles
Sure in its
Motion to and fro
Trumpeting
Like some hustler
In worn jeans
Some angel
Smiling his truth
Of body and youth
Necessary to me
As a sexual man
Who can
Roll his hips
With a sigh
And sway his
Sleep of hot desires
And flashes quivering
With all my desires
The length of
His thirsty
Experiences
In bed where
The head touches
A sucked
Swallowed Apollo-like
Banging of
Dark stranger
Plucked from
The street and
Taken home
One tedious night 105
When I was young
And firm as some
Beautiful Bermuda
Boy or some
Tangier man
Muslin by his
Prayers who smelled
Like burnt incense
Invisible in his smell
Stolen from shyness
Yes the street walker
The gently speak
Of sexual communion
The sleeping eyes
Of solitude
Chocked with sleep
The dark flesh
In its immensity
Beckon me
To his groin
With incantations
Of worship
Conclusion
Remembered
As some phoenix
Reborn from
The struggles
Of being black
When a poison
Touch desperately
Needs to be fit
And leave its 106
Fingerprints
On the future
When tomorrow
Disappears
Because of
Starvation and
Conclusion that
Drop like stones
Calling my name
In the never
Answered morning
Of the hostile
Anonymous strangers
Who flamed me
With their dreams
That I will
Immortalize their dicks
In a poem when
We jousting for
A dominant position
And our dark hurts
Salted with wit
And wishes of being
Fucked by rough trade
That waits in the darkness
Of their shame
And goodbyes dreams.

107
Met him again
Met him again
On the corner in
My last dreaming the dream sheathe
House of my sleeping
Head touched him
Again on the corner
In my last head given
In the dream sheathe
Of my walking head
Unbuckle his belt
Without coaxing the tongue
Ass short of coins
I asked for credit
He smile a took
Of my pant tender 108
Of touch ny denim
Chest man my
Make of love
When through
The touching of
Skinny flesh
That sounds
Like loving making
In the wind
Nice buttocks
My bottom boy
Tummy tugged
Toward the fuck
Come warm my
Hard dick baby
The fucking is good
And on in the
Warmth of the bath water.

109
Something beautiful

Something beautiful
Like new silver
Raw in the mines
Quite as men in love
Excessive but fine
Something pretty
Like nude boys
Like old gold impatient
In its prettiness
Or Joseph Cotton
In black and white
Or old Roberta Flack
Crooning at the night
Is like rain
Of foreskins
And sweet of lips
110
The suck and the fuck
Touch my something
Like this a
Fragment of a poem
Poem irreversible
Listening in bed
Of laughter and
Talk of oranges
And tea with
T S like rain
In Missouri
Pursuing its
Own posseting
Falling like
Something of
Bach in quite
Afternoon
Beside the sun
Like fragment
Of a poem spoken
Softly precisely
Into the ear of your lover
Its breakage is
The birth of a
New born something
Like that do with
Me the stolen shadows
Hazy my pain so full
Of caught rain you know
That they have
Caged the trees
Of sexual delight
Knowledge it’s
All unspoken in
The hole you know
111
The sexual hole
The swamp did
Collapse its
Attendant weight
And now it got
So bad that the
River bleeds
But wont let
You near it
Something of
Refusal to pick at the
Scar only
To escape the body
Function pf pumping
It seen like-now-a-days
It is always red always
Hot with old new news
With the warm touch
Of a cock in the mouth
You know what it is I mean
The afternoon centers
Itself right there
Like clock work
The tangled moments
Brings time its
Time card to
Clock out in ice blue
The discouraging
Shadows are bedroom
Shadows just scars
In the plaster wall a map
Perhaps for migration
Around the room
Something like
112
The moment Sylva
Plath shifted weight
Head in the oven
The last migration last
Distance kept
Something beautifully
Like laying in bed
Against the rain
Your man nude beside you
The land attempting
A transfusion
I guess that
No one washes
The moon that
Followed me home
Like something going
West like something
Of a homeless dog
Are you gonna
Ta eat the last
Of that changing
Place with your
Absence of pain
Can I have it
You know one
Of these days
I’m gonna make
It big why I’m
Gonna discourage
The weight of water
And the swamp will
Come alive attendant
To its needs and
The moon will
Remember soon
113
Its function with
Earth and the sun
And all of those
Kinds of cosmic
Things yes something
Like that to remember
Me by that all I
Ask is to die like
The meaning of
My absence.
At the bar social in Memphis the men gathered
At the bar social in Memphis the men gathered
The blacks the BWMT whites
Someone asked if being black and gay
Was mutually exclusive am I one or the other
He was a trim preoccupied kind of a guy
Dirty red in complexion and what in my youth
was called good hair
I watched them not as one but a poet
and thought wasn’t Jeffrey Dahner that
Guy that ate them boys a BWMTer
What did Mike think of that
We poets must ask such questions
To tell you the truth about you
The ill that eat the flesh of its desires
For dark meat an ancient act of man for sure 114
The joy of glorious dark
Flesh to sex when men are gathered to
Share the fulfillment of their sexual appetites
And the wondrous joy of night
What of the question need answered
When love is a queer fellow of divergence taste
Blacks for middle-class whites we call gay
And blacks Atumians in mind and skin to love
Love has always been working-class
In whom he chose for whom
He sits at many tables and eats his fill full
His eyes were sullenly
His eyes were sullenly
Established in his face
His brow made a shade
His heart, a pathway
Newly laid
His limbs was
Fettered to his soul
Where one by both
Perfect of eye goes
Coming forth by light of day
He has laid the moon God away
O, moon there is a mighty valor
In your stay, to hang as you hang
To component the night by
I have stabbed at the hearts 115
Of many Gods to see
Which one would bleed
And it was only
The god of the trees
That opened himself
To me
Bleeding is necessary
For the glorification of a deity
A God that can dig down deep
Into the dirt is my current lover
She is mother and father
Of our worth giving of death and birth
And beautiful boys in between
We do not love them green
Let the boys have the young one.
Atumian Love
Here is a kind of love
That would if it could
Woo you
Move you to bring
One on the joyous ride
Of how it can not be hid
Where lovers tangles their hair
In the hangers
Get your love wet
Let it not stay hidden
From view you and you
Who do as men do
In matters of love
Sent from above
Yes you who hide 116
Get you love outside
Of the darkness
With its door that can
Be locked from the inside
What matter of make
That meaning stalled and stayed
We need your love of the battle
To cure our own.
Love me till the grave
1
Love me till the grave
Is the last place
Where we will meet
Rest in peace
You fallen warriors
In the cause of manly love.
2
here I am
the last lover
of your love.
3
His hand was ready
To slip beneath my belt
But I wasn’t feeling the touch
But to much drinks
117
To tell him so
So I let him have his way
Sometimes we give our bodies as a gift
And we go places we shouldn’t go
He undid my belt slow
And whisper in my ear
I’m looking forward to this
He didn’t know it yet
But the night was already a fail
I fondled him out of habit
My desire just wasn’t in it
Too drunk to say
Not tonight dear
I have a head ache.
In the
In the
Chat room
A 29 years old
Asked me if
I liked younger men?
I said
I love them all
Well can we
Meet then?
I said when
Still not willing
To date him
But intrigued
By the possibility.

118
I need no priest to give advice
I need no priest to give advice
I know the different between wrong and right.
A love like mine in the night
Fires itself and gives a light
And the Gods keep it in their sight.
The love that dear to speak its name
Is love of love all the same
In love I am a winner in the game.
When Gods are hateful I do not believe
I will not fall down to my knees
For Nature holds the Godly k keys
And she knows what it truly means
To be in love
Nature my friend is my only one
She rule the roost of what’s to come 119
She knows all that have gone before
She is the God that I adore
I breathe her deep down to my core
She gives to me the breath of tress
She gives to me what it means
To be in love and what it seem
To love a man and to dream
Nature is my only God
She knows the wisdom to spare the rod
Her beauty is there to school you.
Why believe in a God above
That condemns the art of manly love
When to it were you truly born
I love her fully with all that I am
And she loves me back as only she can
This love of man can be held in the hand.
Yes Nature this poem is for you
In love we do as we do
To love our love thoroughly through.
You are the God that rules my life
I need no priest to give advice
For your wisdom is in plain sight
And it’s strong enough to school you.
My lady love, my pride and joy
You birth me to love the boys
And for it am I blessed to enjoy.

120
What is love
What is love
What indeed
To be in love
What does it means?
To say that I can’t
Live without you
Few will say
That this is true
Does your heart ache
When its lover is away?
For his return
Can you barely wait?
Does the scent in the cloths he ware
Cause your heart to stir?
Many may admit 121
That it is not in the heart
But they feel faint
When they’re apart.
Such a love must be true
Such a love me and you.
I love you dear
I love you dear
Where ever from it comes.
It seems as if
To our love
We were truly born.
Far be it for me
To speak of souls
Mate that make
The way we go.
I think nobody ready knows
The seat of love
And where it grows.
In the head
Or in the heart
I vow to you
Never to part.
I love you
As I love my God.
I love my child
I spare the rod.
Human kind
I love them all
Fat and thin
And in between
I love the birds
The bees and trees 122
All that nature
Gives to me.
There is no end
To love that wins
The heart of other
Who are our kin
Mother, father
Sister, brother
I even love
The love of lovers.
Love is here
For us to discover
To share of ourselves
With some other
It fills a need deep within
It gives to us
An inner strength
But well I know
That it can be spent
From the mysterious place
From where it is sent.

123
I want to be nothing more
I want to be nothing more
Then the dance you dance
Around the heat of a lit light bulb
I want to be the wind in your eyes
That makes you cry
Walk on me like you walk on your shadow
Feel me like you feel the heat at the back of your neck
Your breath smelling of run
And the tinkle town coins
Can make me drunk
The dead leaves at your feet
Make me pled to a God
That is penalized when he
Has overdrawn his bank account of souls
And all I can know is that the seed head 124
Of wild grasses is knifing the air
With their leaves once used
To comb the teeth
Of a misplaced noon time of day
When we made male love
I have forgotten how to pray
So I sing my way praises
And bum my way into the heart of God
With the thutst of your rod.
His mood was as light
His mood was as light
As a cloud’s front
Drifting over St. Louis
The brownness of his eyes
Was fit to tell time by
The blackness of his skin
Was rough enough to let me in
And his hair was as wild as leaves
Dancing in the wayward breeze
He asked me with his voice
As grey as worn asphalt
Holding the heat of a warm street
He asked, do you think that you can love me?

125

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