Disclaimer

This blog ran for more than two years with no graphics--and it received about 50 page views. I was advised to add graphics; after seeing the huge public that followed blogs dedicated to homoerotic images, I decided to use that kind. The result was a dramatically increased number of monthly page views, and the number has remained fairly steady. Most of the images were found on the internet; although they are assumed to be in the public domain, they are identified as far as possible. They are exhibited under the "Fair Use" protections of United States copyright law: their function is simply to attract readers to the poems--I receive no economic benefit from them or from the blog. Nevertheless, they will be removed if they are copyrighted and the owner so desires.

Sunday, June 25, 2017

OUT OF THE SIXTIES






Oh, look! Here come the Flower Children,
with beads and braids and tie-dyed feathers,
the hippie happie demonstrators
marching against the world’s Darth Vaders,
laughing and singing and loving each other,
blithe go-fors for somebody’s alternate kingdom,
marching, dancing, turn up the speakers,
into the rainbow, into the visions,
the sacred weed and the magic mushroom,
Shangri-La, Woodstock, Walden, Eden,
the compound ruled by the loving leader,
the sex and the sweats and the screams of laughter,
and into the night of the trussed pigslaughter,
the barren tears, the begging and pleading,
the belly ripped open, a bloody melon,
wasting, wasting, all fall down
Trust me, trust always, and only, the young.


_____________________________________
Photo from http://inspirement.tumblr.com/post19730831916/

Monday, May 15, 2017

THE FAREWELL

            In Memoriam
Richard Dunn, Jack Forrest, Aníbal Figueroa
and all the other victims of the plague 

Now with accelerating force I feel
the world fall back and reel away from me:  

Outside my window ceaselessly
the wind streams by, and every tree
spends itself terminally in leaves
that give themselves into the air
and twist away, fall down the street,
scud, stumble, scurry out of sight
under the culverts, into the night.   

And all night long, beneath my dreams
the world's great, rushing rivers drain
across the continents, down the wide plains,
into the dark, dissolving sea.  

All Nature gives itself away
in perpetual farewell.  

Now while my body’s failing cells
detach themselves and drift away,
you separate yourself from me.
My hands, that once could keep you near,
attempt to follow, tentatively,
and lose themselves in empty air. 
My eyes still seek your face, no longer there; 
my ears strain after you, your voice, your feet
retreating down hospital passageways.  

My heart is gone;
my thoughts no longer belong to me;
my soul has ceased to be my own;
my peace is broken, my pride pulled down.  

Great is the power of Nature’s law,
that every soul and body must obey;
the writ that runs through every thing, the universal flaw;
that not even Love can stay. 





                                 






Wednesday, April 19, 2017

OEDIPUS AND THE SPHINX


They met again just as before,
since in Hell nothing changes,
and, as before, she taunted him
with his blindness, mixing her lyrical laments
for the tender maternal victim
of your arrogance
with but being a man,
of course you didn't see
He, in his simplicity,
said only, “I was her child, her baby.  
And she tried to kill me.”






Thursday, March 2, 2017

CÁNTICO


Eres 
Una sola rosa roja 
         un florero de cristal 

Una sonata para piano 
         agua de manantial 

Un tesorola luz del sol
        en broches y eslabones de oro

Eres 
Una fuente callada 
        un patio interior 

Una puerta en la muralla 
        una madreselva en flor 

Nubes sobre la montaña 
        la cantilena del ruiseñor  

Una ráfaga sobre un pozo 
        profundo y oscuro… 
                                 trueno lejano  

Eres 
Un misterio—y tu ausencia       
        un misterio desolador  

Raudal de vacía blancura 
        silencio torrencial 

Deslumbrante resplandor 
        catarata de soledad 

Eres 
Una sombra luminosa 
       una silueta en el umbral

Eres 
Mi huésped de cuerpo y alma 
        una vela en el altar






Monday, January 30, 2017

SONG FOR A ROCK GROUP


I look at you,
You look at me—
You with the eyes of an angel, a demon,
What do you see? 

You take my hand
Is it for real?
All of a sudden I’m falling, I’m flying—
What do you feel?  

I say “Hello,”
You sing the refrain
Of a song that says things that I don’t understand—
What does it mean?  

CHORUS:
I lie awake all night
Thinking of you,
Go around in a daze all day,
Don’t know what to do.
When will I see you again?
Will it be today?
Sometimes you seem to be
So far away.
Sometimes I think I’ll never know
What you mean to say.








Wednesday, December 28, 2016

UN ASCETA


                    (Mt. 10:38, 16:24)


Gracias te doy, mi Dios, por esta cruz,

relámpago que en mi pecho enterrado
me ha llenado de una luz interior,

dardo que en mi corazón hundido
ha encendido ahí un radiante dolor.

Y gracias por el fuego en el que yo ardo,
rosas las llamas son, y el humo espinas.

Gracias por el madero, la viga áspera y dura
que por la vía dolorosa de esta vida

arrastro—Gracias por la esencia pura
que rezuman mis llagas: mirra, nardo,    

incienso de punzante olor, fragancia divina
que destila cada gota de sangre que derramo…

Y por los clavos que me esperan, ¡gracias mil!
¡Mías sean las penas, la gloria sea tuya!

No me las quites nunca, aunque no me las merezca:
La ligereza, mi desnudez después de tal despojo,

Thursday, November 17, 2016

A RIDDLE


Now I am bound taut, drawn down
by those gigantic hands
to the framework that holds me from below. 
The slightest tap upon this rack
can make me quiver into sound.
And when against the cross-pull of the strands
that come and go
I shudder and vibrate,
the whole body of my world resounds.
Yet should I lie slack along all my length
in complete contact with this ground,
nor it nor I would resonate:
there would be no music then.
It is this thing
perversely called a bridge,
that separates
and holds me back
from everything—this hard threshold,
this stumbling block—produces strength,       
gives power to strain,
and makes me sing.
Sometimes so vibrant is the pain
that thrills me through, I know
they are stroking me again
(fingers pressing, probing how
to raise my cries up to a scream)
with that delicate, pitiless bow. 

How they must be enjoying it now. 





(THE STRING OF A FIDDLE)      







http://www.betterphoto.com/gallery/dynoGallDetail.asp?photoID=5490813&catID=25&rowNumber=3

Friday, October 7, 2016

A FRAGMENT


Their breathing came quiet and slow.

After working together hard
to light the spark that fused,
then shattered them,
they rested. 

One sprawled apart,
sweat-polished like a slave
caught in the toils of love,
dispersed along a current of dreams.



His lover lay heavy and warm,
eyes closed against the all-absorbing dark, 

Monday, October 3, 2016

HERE'S TO WILLIAM J. CLINTON




Here’s to William J. Clinton,
our President quondam,
who’s shown that he takes
the whole world as his condom.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CbvTor2pdBQ 


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CbvTor2pdBQ&t=1063s


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWL_NBJN5cA



Image result for william j. clinton and monica lewinski

Monday, August 1, 2016

EN LA PLAYA DE LA VIRGEN


Saliste de la malla chispeante
de la ondulante marejada
tal como un dios desnudo;
el arco doble de tu pecho
se tallaba de sol y sombra. 

Tus piernas rompían el agua;
los prismas rutilantes
corrían por tus muslos;
tus dedos despedían
centellas de diamante. 

Serpientes embelesadas
de espuma te perseguían
hasta donde me encontraba
esperándote en la orilla.
Ellas silbaban tu nombre
cual locas enamoradas;
sus lenguas de amargo almíbar
me salpicaron la cara. 

Desde las piedras torcidas
y rotas de de la bahía,
la santa imagen tendía
los brazos hacia mí,  

¡Santa Virgen de las rocas!
¡Virgen Santa del rocío! 

con las manos devoradas
por los vientos y las olas,
y la vestidura rota
por el salitre incrustada . . .

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