Monday, December 26, 2011

The View

The View

The view from up here—
Is quite telling, worth perhaps
A story or two maybe

Off to the south there’s—
Newman’s Hospital where
Dr. Eckdall delivered me

His son was a Dr. Eckdall—
His daughter Roberta is an
Artist and so is John Evans

Then to the west there’s—
Maplewood Cemetery where
My family is buried

Mother, grandparents—
The Union dead who died to
Make Kansas a Free State

Wood Bloxom is there—
Beneath a Reeble’s stone
The sun shining down there?

East of me is Emporia—
The Athens of the Midwest
Shall we drag Commercial?

Art deco civic auditorium—
Where’d they get the money
During that last Great Depression?

They’ve saved Lowther Jr High—
And Emporia Senior High too
As well as the old Granada

Commercial Street runs from—
Emporia State University thru
Town all the way to Olpe

The Cottonwood River slides—
Thru Peter Pan Park, past the
Monkey Island to Soden Grove

The town of my gone boyhood—
Mapped out still in my mind
Sixth and Commercial pivots
The Midwest Muse around me

And now here I am retired—
Living in Kenyon Heights with
A view of everything I was and
Wanted to be way back then

The other retirees and I are—
Nicely ensconced in moderate
Income housing, there’s the
Broadway Apartments too

I read the Emporia Gazette—
Mostly just the obituaries now
My 50th EHS Reunion is growing
Near but so is something else

Friday, December 2, 2011



“All I want out of school is me.”

Bulging Bildungsroman
Blue Velvet
Saturday Night Double-Feature
Stoic Republican Kid


“Color floods to
the spot, dull purple”
—Sylvia Plath, Contusion

He bruised so easy—
The color of bruised fruit
A purple hickie tells all

I made him in the shower—
He let me do him all I wanted
Guileless young animal

My queer puffy lips—
They gave everything away
Who needed Botux back then?

Ronnie was so vain—
Like a peacock in a zoo
I couldn’t help but gawk

I really couldn’t help it—
I had these fat, ugly fag lips
That trembled all the time

Ronnie’s was vulnerable—
That garish purple blemish
On his uncut young dickhead

Bulging Bildungsroman

Butchy Mr. Bowie—
Gay gym teacher back then
In junior high school

Choosing Ronnie & me—
As the basket-boyz back
In the seventh grade

Little did I know—
What I’d get to see those
Dayz in the showers

We got outta class—
Early to shower so we
Could do the baskets

Ronnie was moody—
Then I soon found out why
His ten-inch boner!!!

It was simply huge—
A king kong cock on the kid
So manly & uncut!!!

“Jesus christ!” I said—
Let me get my fuckin’ lips
On that right away!!!

Blue Velvet

Greasy Elvis ducktail—
Bluejeans tight as foreskin
Pealing it down slow

Beneath blue velvet skies—
Stoic desires made themselves
Known and understood

No words anymore—
Except at the end when words
Became guttural utterances

Blue velvet Elvis portraits—
In dumpy cheap motel rooms
Remind me so much of him

Saturday Night Double-Feature

Coagulated cum—
Salty with teenage tears
The paleness of his body

I forget the movies—
At the 50-S Drive In but
Then I was kinda busy

I sucked him off—
The first wad so he’d
Take longer fuckin me

So laid back & easy—
Biting me on my neck
Calling me a little whore

Stoic Republican Kid

Everything tasted—
Like him, earthy and
Clotted with cum

Conservative cock—
Red State martyrdom
So silently squirting cum

Holding it back—
Making me realize how
Shy a str8t guy can be

Especially Ronnie—
Who liked getting off
But didn’t talk about it


His greased back ducktail—
His Elvis the Pelvis lips
He’d smoke after sex

He’d smirk or just shrug—
No matter how intense it
Was before & after

He was the first guy—
I ever knew who could
Make me totally dick-crazy

I savor his big wads—
All the way back home
And then I’d beat off

No more Sunday school—
No more doing any homework
I worshipped Ronnie instead

I sat thru classes bored now—
All I could do was think about
Cumly ambrosia of the godz

Uncut slutty angels—
Skanky uncut devil boy blues
I had it really bad for him

Despite all my masturbation—
I still had these awful wetdreams
All of them about Ronnie

One time I told him—
About my nocturnal emissions
He just smirked at me

He knew it was his fault—
Sometimes his cum oozed
Outta my erect nostrils

When he shot really hard—
Making me swallow it all and
It came outta me like snot

I felt the faggy shame—
And all that self-loathing
But I was addicted to dick

I was simply a cocksucker—
I’d always been a flaming fag
No need to butch it up, girl

Ronnie was rough-trade—
He could be hoodlum butch
Flexing his tight bluejeans hips

But he could be gentle too—
Taking his time getting it all
The way up my tight little ass

The girlz sensed his maleness—
They knew I was getting him off
They wanted some action too

It made me awfully jealous—
But most of them wouldn’t fuck
Or suck his demanding cock

We’d skip classes all the time—
Smoke some weed & get high
Then I’d get him off twice

The first time a quickie—
After a snort or two of coke
Suddenly blowing my brains out

Then a long dragged out—
Second time with enough jizz
To make his genealogy ache

He was a bad influence on me—
I couldn’t leave him alone and
His tight nutsac was so swollen

Jailbait romance is that way—
Unadulterated by stupid adults
Gimme that jizzy jouissance