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Selected Poems

Hard Learning: A Diary

May 1. My vanity was injured because my self-revelation, my skilled dissection of my outsize half of the relationship, didn’t beguile him.

The Cripple Liberation Front Marching Band Blues

(Part IV)

My hands begin to hurt from the constant pressure of the crutches. Jaggers of pain run up my arm. It feels as if I have bared every nerve in my arms. I am sweating, and the sweat runs down my forehead, into my eyes. I have to stop each few steps to wipe the sweat from my eyes. Then I put sore hands on crutches again, and walk a few more steps, then I must stop to wipe my eyes again.

The Lucy Syndrome

The inexorable pride that haunts me, the fever of gluttony, and lust that would forego God for an ecstatic moment are the gas, grease, and oil that lubricate this Hellbent vehicle. They are tears the sperm that race up the tube; they excite and terrify but they will never, never save me.

The Cripple Liberation Front Marching Band Blues

(Part III)

After leaving Warm Springs, I will have to learn the next steps on my own. I have no compadres about me to give me the benefit of their learning. I will, alone, have to build physical and emotional resources to deal with the real world.

The Rising Sun Neighborhood Newsletter

I think we should have international coming out day where we gather our assorted courage and tell a few friends or the world The Awful Thing and find out — they already knew and didn’t care, they didn’t know and can’t see what the problem is, they’re shocked but get over it and are bigger in a while . . . or, or, or it’s awful to them too and we lose a friend.

News From El Corizon

In The Composing Room

Well you tell your mom you can sleep on the floor here tonight, I tell her, if nothing else turns up. And I’m thinking that blankets thrown down for them on a bare floor in the apartment of strangers isn’t much to offer, they will have to be pretty desperate to accept an offer like that.

Possessiveness And Jealousy

Joni Mitchell, mental transcendence, apologies to the Aquarian Age

Sunbeams

The winds of grace blow all the time. All we need to do is set our sails.

Ramakrishna

Editor’s Note