Because I must walk
through the eye-shaped
shadows cast by these
curved gold leaves thick
atop each constructed
palm tree, past displays
of silk scarves, lit
silhouettes of blue-bottled
perfume — because
I grip, as though for the first
time, a paper bag
of french fries from McDonald's,
and lick, from each fingertip,
i.
In a courtyard, in these stacks of chairs
before the empty stage — near are
we Lord, near and graspable. Lord,
accept these humble offerings:
stacks of biscuits wrapped in cellophane,
stacks of bone in glass: thighbone,
spine. Stacks of white saucers, porcelain
circles into which stacks of lip-worn
If there is a word in the lexicon of love,
it will not declare itself.
The nature of words is to fail
men who fall in love with men.
It will not declare itself,
the perfect word. Boyfriend seems ridiculous:
men who fall in love with men
deserve something a bit more formal.
The perfect word? Boyfriend? Ridiculous.
But partner is... businesslike —
we deserve something a bit less formal,
much more in love with love.
This is what he dreams of:
a map of burned land,
a mound of dirt
in the early century’ s winter.
A map of burned land?
A country is razed
in the early century’ s winter.
And God descends.
A country is raised
because of industry.
And God descends,
messengers rush inside
because of industry,
in spite of diplomats.
Messengers rush inside
to haunt the darkened aisles.
In spite of diplomats,
the witnesses know well
to haunt the darkened aisles,
experimentally —
This may sound queer,
but in 1985 I held the delicate hands
of Dan White:
I prepared him for burial; by then, Harvey Milk
was made monument — no, myth — by the years
since he was shot.
I remember when Harvey was shot:
twenty, and I knew I was queer.
Those were the years,
Levi’ s and leather jackets holding hands
on Castro Street, cheering for Harvey Milk —
elected on the same day as Dan White.
I
— how we’ re carpet-making
by the river
a long dream to unroll
and somehow time to pole
a boat
I designed a carpet today —
dogtooth violets
and spoke to a full hall
now that the gall
of our society’ s
corruption stains throughout
Dear Janey I am tossed
by many things
If the change would bring
better art
but if it would not?
O to be home to sail the flood
I’ m possessed
and do possess
Employer
Nothing worth noting
except an Andromeda
with quadrangular shoots —
the boots
of the people
wet inside: they must swim
to church thru the floods
or be taxed — the blossoms
from the bosoms
of the leaves
*
Fog-thick morning —
I see only
where I now walk. I carry
my clarity
with me.
*
Hear
where her snow-grave is
the You
ah you
of mourning doves
I
My wife is ill!
And I sit
waiting
for a quorum
II
Fast ride
his horse collapsed
Now he saddled walked
Borrowed a farmer’ s
unbroken colt
To Richmond
Richmond How stop —
Arnold’ s redcoats
there
III
Elk Hill destroyed —
Cornwallis
carried off 30 slaves
Jefferson:
Were it to give them freedom
he’ d have done right
IV
Latin and Greek
my tools
to understand
humanity
I
The chemist creates
the brazen
approximation:
Life
Thy will be done
Sun
II
Time to garden
before I
die —
to meet
my compost maker
the caretaker
of the cemetery
I married
in the world’ s black night
for warmth
if not repose.
At the close —
someone.
I hid with him
from the long range guns.
We lay leg
in the cupboard, head
in closet.
A slit of light
at no bird dawn —
Untaught
I thought
he drank
