Monday, December 31, 2018

New Year' Eve (2018)

A multi-murder of Crows
with a’fluttering wings
and flapping beaks,
in a dichotomy of whispers
and obstreperous cawing,
both pay me no heed and
annoying me with cavalier
as they seem to multiply
like a surreal memorial to
Alfred Hitchcock.

This balmy last day of 2018
with its ebony-speckled sky,
as if this last day is the

As I shout from my balcony,
to this base-natural group;
“It’s New Year’s Eve, you birds,
what have you resolved?”

I’m ignored.


Wednesday, May 2, 2018

War and Peace

I was born during one war.
I came of age serving in another.
In between and for years after
I was at war with myself.

A mental insidious gnawing constantly
that I was QUEER.

A comedian once quipped:
“He was so far in the closet,
he was behind the Christmas presents.”

That was me.

Always in shadows, in dark corridors of
bath-houses, behind Glory-hole walls,
blow jobs in balconies.

I was always alone, lonely and afraid.

At age 62 I retired and shed my Madison Avenue
suit and tie and false pretenses and remarks about
my not being married.


No, it wasn’t that simple, it took me several years
to convince myself and confide in others of my
true self.

John Lennon wrote and sang:
“The war is over, if you want it, give peace a chance.”

My personal war is over.
I am at peace with myself.