Apricocks... Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise; -Shakespeare: Midsummer Night's Dream
Thursday, October 31, 2019
Queer at 72
How queer to be seventy-two
the flow we imagine that our life is
goes around islands of perceptions
revelations traumas disillusions
deposed rulers of our endeavors
career and ambition dissipate in favor of
reminiscence of thirteen lovers
missing those on the other side
lost in death's dateless night
found alive in dreams
awake I am teaching asking
like Socrates about the beauty
of portraits of Picasso's six wives
are the thirteen an identity my passion
the rapport the thoughts feelings and
body fluids the ecstasy of flesh and cum
arguments forgiveness kisses
what else am I but those
writings poetry photographs
letters concerts art or walks in parks
up mountains down streams
looking at glaciers craters volcanoes
snap-shooting temples shrines cathedrals
the Alcazar of Seville the Pantheon
the shrine of 3000 lanterns all impermanent
the revelation when alone on Mauna Kea
under the stars with Orion friend for life
that Thanatos and Eros are queer at 72
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