Thursday, August 29, 2013

Ex stasis

I am a merry Post-Modernist
dwelling in the Unreality of
Reality where the Real is
unimaginative and the
Unreal is imaginable
where I encounter the
Real I am disappointed
and long for the Unreal
with all its colors
and heroes
and horrors
that excite and
give life to my
living being
forsaking any and all
beings that dwell
in their own


Easton Mountain (a gay spirit camp)


The Fairies blew in from the east.
Aquarius and Rose Bud and Tiger Lilly.

Androgynous in appearance
and fluid in movement,
at peace with the flora
and fauna around them.

Passively challenging those
who did not understand
nor do not meld with the
spirit of the Earth.


Bill and I blew in from the south.
Confident and comfortable in our
Gay masculinity.

Donning sarongs and multi-colored
volunteer hats, magic marked,
‘Emily Dickinson’ for me
and ‘Macklemore’, for Bill.

Assuming faux identities to
beg the question of music
and poetry.

Becoming outside ourselves
to view the scene via a poets eye.


Those who questioned, came.
Those who sought, came.
Those who hurt, came.

The Wizard was waiting for us all
on this magic mountain.

The questions, answered.
The seekers, found.
The hurt, healed.

An ecstatic self-awareness
via community.


The spirit yields to the flesh
in the form of a New York State
Department of Health van.

H.I.V. testing for the community.

The lab technician,
who was about to draw my blood,
had one final question:
“Are you Male or Female?”


Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Mothers Cousin I

Jimmy gosha-longo was a cousin.
(Jimmy long legs.)
He came to mind when I buried my mother.

Jimmy would run from his house
to catch the Pitkin Avenue bus.
(Do not inquire of me as to his destination.)

Anyways, he must have had a bus time-table.
You see, he would stop into Henny’s Candy Store
and order an Egg Cream.

As Henny made the creamy cocktail,
inevitably the bus would arrive,
and Jimmy would run-out,
leaving Henny with the Egg Cream.

Sounds like a head-game, right (?)
I think so.
How fast could Henny make the Egg Cream?
How fast could Jimmy drink and pay for it?

It probably all worked out well, but,
the sweet-street story was that Jimmy
got the best of Henny everytime.


Henny always called Jimmy,
“A Schmuck.”


Mothers Cousin II

Johnny Bath Beach was a cousin.
He came to mind when I buried my mother.

Johnny was part of the family on
Elizabeth Street in Little Italy.
Then one day he mysteriously
moved out to Bath Beach
in Brooklyn.

Now, Johnny always seemed like a nice guy,
and I always figured he was some sort
of relative.

Anyway, we did not see much of him,
but we heard a lot about him.

You see, Johnny was a made-guy.

As a kid, I always boasted of having
a made-guy as a relative.
It was a Sicilian thing.

At a family gathering,
someone inquired about Johnny,
not having heard from him in awhile.
Then someone says, that they have not
seen Johnny for awhile.
All nodded.

That too, was a Sicilian thing.


Thursday, August 1, 2013


The Spanking Machine was in that room
behind the big oak door
with the shiny brass knob.

The Principal’s and Vice Principal’s offices
are next to the Spanking Machine room

I sit on a wooden bench in the hallway
facing those rooms.

I watch my fellow-students
and teachers drift by.

I try to avoid eye contact.

Anthony ,” Class Clown”: in trouble again.

Gifted student, advanced student,
“D” conduct student.

4th grade disturbance, anxious,
craving attention.

Gonna’ get spanked.



The Spanking Machine was a myth.

It was replaced by another dread:
Calling my parents to school.

My mother was beside herself as to
what to do with a clever son with
too much energy seemingly mis-directed.
Why couldn’t he be like his older sister,
smart and well-behaved?

My father was somewhat perplexed
as to having 2 clever children.

He was a gambler, an entrepreneur,
a risk taker, who somehow understood
a son who could be smart and
test boundaries and limits.

Make no mistake about it
my parents did not like coming to school.

Nothing much changed,
amid all this tumult.