7.12 / Queer Three


listen to this poem

HIM annotated in my ancient files

HIM who brought forth teenage hallelujahs

HIM a sly snicker and Brooke Jensen Rainy Night in Georgia

HIM a big man in his soft heart and hard pants

HIM enshrouded in cinema mist of long ago

HIM a working man / rough hands / my boyish bottom

HIM a mad genius with tower piano in Boston

HIM a wiry spider with early dreadlocks

HIM an acid trip and grand experimental novel

HIM a jewel’d jesus prophet in my fever’d imagination

HIM his hands caressing piano bone, caressing me

HIM his hands absolving me and thrusting me to ballet

HIM duet / adagio :me his piano , he my terrible guru

HIM his face and teenage cockin paint by his own hand

HIM high yellow , and imported from White Plains

HIM already gallery ready / baby picasso in his jeans

HIM who might be straight and might be gay , and i would never know

HIM a pimp i met in urban wanderlust

HIM a cocaine king , a slimy trailer park

HIM a ruffled grouse . a fat demanding cock

HIM a methamp marathon , a flight of goingfast

HIM a porno parvenu

HIM a negro army boy down low

HIM and me , and drifting bedroom in Key West

HIM and me , pretend romantic on the docks where jugglers whirled

HIM so hot and me so horny and vice versa

HIM a whiff , a whisper and a never again

HIM agod i saw upon a stage in Cambridge

HIM a flashlit dream who flickered once and reappeared upon the Bay

HIM who wanted me as trophy danceboy bride

HIM whose Georgia hands and Georgia tears did drip across my thighs

HIM who Florida blonde and towering punk

HIM tatoo and passion for dark bird

HIM a running boyfriend and a curse

HIM a bedroom blazed , a spray of ether

HIM in prison soon , and fervid holy ghosting

HIM a cold night alchoholic splendor

HIM a sudden burst of some tremendous mountain fire

HIM forget this breath , forget this foreign feeling

HIM abandoned squat , abandoned sleeping spaces

HIM catburgler,eye of demon,twister

HIM a baseball bat : a childhood raping

HIM crackburgler / widow’s peak and scheming him

HIM the arbiter of what must never be

HIM the sage who set my eye free

Hassan Falak is presently beginning his second act,as a writer. His first act was as a dancer/choreographer. He lives in Tucson AZ with his companion of twenty-one years and two cats.
7.12 / Queer Three