2005 - Vol. 2, Issue 5

"To Swish Singers"

I have to write this note
     because I lost my speech
three years ago
     when cancer got my larynx,
back when I was in Ward I,
     before they called me "intermediary,"
fed me Valium,
     and rolled me
before the game shows
     with those giddy couples
spinning medieval wheels
     all daylight hours.

When you read this back outside,
     know that I appreciate
your campy caroling tonight,
     (most did not even notice
you are different! how clever!)
     and hope that you will come again
one afternoon
     to hold the hand
of a gay brother
     imprisoned here at 93
in the culture of grandparenthood
     at Little Acre of Heaven.

"A Matter of Record, Without End"

Judy Stanislowski:  20 years for mayhem.
On one hot August night she sliced off the ear
of the prowler who shouted obscenities at her.

Freeda Cater:  10 years for running away
and leaving her three children and husband
after he had hit her with a hot poker
when she did not have supper ready.

Mary Denham:  6 months, suspended sentence,
for threatening the welfare agent
who said that Mary would not be eligible
for funds for an abortion, though only 13.

Grace Miller:  15 years for grand larceny:
on February 7, 1980, she stole the Winnebago
of her pimp when he refused to buy enough
gas to keep the heater going in the sleeping
quarters in the slack season.

Helen Trueblood:  only 12 months,
in recognition of it being her first offense,
for assaulting her employer in the library
when he called her "bitch."

"The Agony and the Ecstasy"

Once bundled faggots burned till witches died.
Why won't you let me kiss you?  Jim asked Bill.
On moonbeams fairies cross the countryside.

Invisibility is genocide,
bloodless and quiet, but as surely shrill.
Once bundled faggots burned till witches died.

No more must homoflesh be mortified.
Each with her own her needs may now fulfill.
On moonbeams fairies cross the countryside.

Phallae and mind through soul both coincide:
Erotophobes their fullness spill.
Once bundled faggots burned till witches died.

Wet tongue against wet tongue with love applied
the very thought of spirit does instill.
On moonbeams fairies cross the countryside.

Nears a love that never has been tried:
ours is the chance to sexualize goodwill.
Once bundled faggots burned till witches died.
On moonbeams fairies cross the countryside.