Saturday, September 8, 2012

Gothic Emporia


Gothic Emporia


There’s nothing more—
Gothic than Emporia
During the winter

The tall stark Elms—
Brooding up & down
The dismal streets

The gothic house—
On Constitution was
Really no different

Inherited from my—
Gone grandparents
Now reclusive mine

The sleek art deco—
Senate Apartments
Now a Frat House

The big homes—
Once historic now
A ghetto slum

Sunken Garden


The Fountain—
Once a rendezvous
For illicit moments

Tennessee Williams—
Summer and Smoke
Lonely interludes

Young male students—
Lonely & far from home
Blowjobs in the bushes

During the summer—
A Garden of Eden for
Me down on my knees

During winter though—
Slim Pickings with stark
Plumb Hall looking grim

That’s when my mentor—
Vernon Sheffield played
Piano sonatas for me

The Boy in the Bell Jar


I met Vernon one day—
In the old Science Building
Going up the staircase

It was my Ritual—
To view the Fetus Boy
In the display cabinet

There he was asleep—
In his Jar of Formaldehyde
But his eyes were open

Looking at me—
From outta History
For how many years?

I would stand there—
Trying to talk with him
Sharing my thoughts

Long before I read—
Sylvia Plath’s “Bell Jar”
The kid read my beads

Vernon Sheffield


Vernon’s office was—
On the same floor next
To the Boy in Jar

He noticed me—
Maybe felt sorry for me
Took me under his wing

He taught Music then—
Mathematics when the
Department changed

Music for him should—
Be taught only by men
He was tres Misogynist

Why I don’t know—
But he enjoyed young
Men very much instead

And so he ended up—
Teaching Mathematics
Instead there at KSTC

Emporia Evenings


We went for long walks—
In the long summer evenings
Emporia different back then

The Eisenhower Fifties—
So very calm and naïve
After the Second World War

My parents were divorced—
Vernon became my guide
My gay Fairy Godmother

I was like Judy Garland—
Stuck there in Kansas & he
Was Glenda my Good Witch

He lived west of campus—
In a small apartment with
A sleek black grand piano

He’d play Mozart for me—
Minuets and lovely ditties
He’d make up in his mind





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