Here is an atmosphere closing in,
Here is our synchronicity,
Here is a night of Queer as Funk,
Here is a global revolution.
Short crops and jean shorts,
Left hands and unimosity.
My arrow has found its definite dream
Betwixt shoulder left and shoulder right
A smile so big I knew at once
I could hide in here for more
I knew the depth had only dipped
Into still, shallow shores
So much more I felt I knew
I read it in the stars
That filled my eyes and led my arrow
Around the world and more
And back again to build a home
With a back like yours in toil
And a love that kept us up at night
Your left shoulder to my right.
Do you care if my soul comes in pieces?
A string attached to spine
Rolling around in a messy wash
Of leftover nails and splinters
Gathered here in my left hand
From a botched carpentry project.
I shot straight,
I climbed high,
I read the books on ethics,
And there beyond my grasp was hidden
A melodramatic stretch of time
That scratched itself
Over dusty chalkboards
And caught again my web
String attached to spine.
I patch your memories
With worn hands of leather;
Ancient wrinkles as a wind,
Smile from deep within.
Left hand to caress
Jaw line of your chin.
How lucky for the sun
To be stuck in orbit
With the moon,
How lucky for my star to be
Same sky as your moon.
Angel laying on warm sands
Of an Eastern sunrise
Morning gaze my heart away.
Patchwork of a life to be –
Fresh forever in the sea;
Love’s embrace and my wrinkles
Smile from deep within.
This works along the outlier,
A hard gamble with two cigarettes
Dangling loosely in his left hand.
This pulls hard on conscience’s trigger;
Chrome circles and hand stamped VOID
Letting his tight heart
Make shadow puppets on a busy street corner.
This walks home lonely,
Clip-clopping a sweet tap-tap-song out
With rats and harmonized spray cans
Keeping alley cats tempered.
I’ve always wanted a new heart.
Not in the easy sense of amateur
Linger lust or unreasonable memories;
No, I’ve wanted new, unwritten rules
That my heart cannot respond to,
An itch in my left hand.
Take no meaning, my dear heart.
All of this is just in passing,
I am simply covering my tracks.
I’ve heard those thoughts waft around before
Not likely reflecting untampered
Recollections filter absent minded memories
Speaking no evil for I hear no evil
And gods of the dance hall tighten their platinum toe straps
Lifting on the One-Two-Three avenue sidewalk
Until I misunderstand requesting minds
I say to my lovers: “I’m all man, I’m all man.”
Then in Hol-e-wood I’m left cement stiff
I’m left because I’m all that’s left