fr ~ Right before I met Vincent

Morning music

| tone parallel
Chromatic dalliance
My belly button
in a drawer
under munchkin socks
at 7:40
Murmurings
Blue whispers
Vodka babble
My inside mind is out
In contrapuntal glory
A ripped wooly
Wrapped around my waist
Is glitteringly butch
As I listen to
The silky ropes
you putting
on à l’après-midi d’un faune Angled over
A silvery back alley
ground spring
There is no craggy
Hill to climb even
When I’m tripped by
The falling rock candydarling
from the club last night
1972 is drenched
In nameless sex
but a gallery of beautiful faces
even back in the closet
The rumbling
Stretti of joys
Of emotion
may have felt like false crimes
that those
Who felt full
of faith knowing we
we giving our bodies to each
other
Completely lost in sane human havoc
the sounds of knocking stones
whistling through
Leaves,
scrapping branches
Letting water run through
Fingers underwater
we hear a symphony
But it is
La la la Sacre du Printemps
Before the sacrafice
I kick him
off running Mercury
to escape the sound
Of the blood inside a
Cold room waiting for scarred
voices down here below
Flamingo, tangerine
sugar was there
Assainto was there, Larry was there
Paul was there, Keith was there
Christopher was there
Georgio was there, Alberto was there
Anthony was there, Michael was there
Jimmy was there, et fuckin’ al. baby
and nobody walked away
this
He seems
Is why,
not if inside a shadow
passing that might
Be street noise
Seeping in from the endless last night.

for all my brothers

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