when giddy splash was rendered    
in gory crimson palette     & dark-hearted
subgenre     was just  a late digital addition     high
on amphoterrible     cherry-lime maze led
us

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the coil re
placed your eeyyee
was moment will
be muffled in a
sleep or mattress

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The nails came, squelching through him and pounding into me, each one a comet
destroying a planet, each one exploding
like sperm on an egg. People watched,
becoming christians, becoming saints,
there weren't really saints before, saint Mary,
saint Mary, the thief beside us became a saint.

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My trick wants to go to Plato's.
We go to the old Ansonia Baths
where a thousand gay men fucked
a thousand times a night for years.
Now it is Plato's Retreat; no single men are allowed without a date.

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Danielle took my hand in hers,
“I can feel them,” she whispered,
then dressed in a silence
I did not know how to break

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There is no such thing as weather. On the off-chance that it rains, I will remember the indelible mark upon a winter pond where we would skate to music in our heads. The lamp of God was healing to a water deeper than some misplaced months.

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“Jewboy, hey you there”

I pause and quietly say, “excuse me?”

“You don’t fool me jewboy” says Mel Gibson

Then slightly softer and glancing in the mirror as if impatient, “you want a ride?”

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