Booklust October 3, 2009
Posted by Tel in Placed.Tags: lgbt poetry, poems, Poetry
2 comments
whoever believes books can’t take you places
obviously has never sold one on amazon
that was an affair to remember:
starting off with a simple transaction
of selling a book up river to new york city
and then phone calls inquiring of delays
a northern accent and a southern accent fought
then found a similar, curious attraction
culminating in hot, thickly accented phone sex
coupled with firm knuckled fists and panting
oh – to remember the title of that book
and sell it again and again, one for every state
with an adorable and alluring accent
Duppies July 6, 2009
Posted by Tel in Placed.Tags: abandonment, affair, anger, death, desire, domestic violence, fear, gay poetry, hatred, jamaica, jamaican poetry, love, lust, Placed, Poem, poems, Poetry, spirituality, superstition, the unknown, youth
4 comments
a jamaican mile
seems a long thing,
relatively relative
almost subjective
but these are the lengths
you’ve came, my doctor
to find me here tonight
we are both afraid:
you and i.
about those things
lingering among the trees
the stories we tell pickneys
haunt, us, too, good doctor
strangle us so that not even
our voices or capabilities are heard
there is fear in the mountains
and deep in cockpit country
people still talk and second guess
who is who and what is what
medicine means nothing
in a place where people
fret about what follows them
home at night, seen and unseen, good doctor
there is something frightening
clasped around my throat
and fierceness burns in your eyes
so easy to blame the nothingness
that does not exist
or whisper to one another
that we need just breeze off a while
set those duppies free,
whatever demons they might be, my doctor
but sprinkle a little rum and salt
for my safekeeping and passage
A Rulebook to Spreading Ashes June 13, 2009
Posted by Tel in Placed.Tags: baltimore, death, france, gay love poem, gay poet, gay poetry, jamaica, jamaican poetry, japan, lgbt poetry, love, love poem, maryland, Placed, Poem, poems, Poetry
3 comments
Miyajima
Save a little
for the little island
off the coast of
Hiroshima, I beseech you
and implore the goddess,
to end her curse
against trespassing lovers
France
Let my soul mingle
awhile among the vines
of Languedoc Rousillon
outside the old chateaux
where they served up
sacrificial lambs on
Independence Day,
a fitting place for me to stay.
Take, too, a portion to the alter
in Reims and bask
in Chagall’s stained glass
and know I am with you
Jamaica
Toss me into the Ochi
as if it were the Acheron
pardoning and carrying
me to the life beyond.
Spare some of me
for sprinkling
along colonial roadsides
through Fern Gully,
Bog’s Walk and that little
country road in Clarendon
where goats ramble on
Maryland
For my Maryland
there should be remnants,
just enough to say adieu,
sprinkled from the Belvedere:
free to roam, soar and land
in the harbor, mountains,
coasts or city streets-
wherever she will have me
The Ohio
Lastly, a few ashes
should drift down the Ohio,
river that runs through
my veins, my confidant.
Let her be the Lethe
that carries and cleanses
what of me remains
from your mind
for all of time
Floridian Haiku June 13, 2009
Posted by Tel in Placed.Tags: gay love poem, gay poet, gay poetry, lgbt poetry, love, love poem, Placed, Poem, poems, Poetry
2 comments
how sweet a kiss is
when the scent in the air is
filled with hibiscus
California Privateers May 29, 2009
Posted by Tel in Placed.Tags: california, gay love poem, gay marriage, gay poet, gay poetry, pirates, Placed, Poem, poems, Poetry, prop 8, proposition 8
5 comments
the countless,
incognito folk
unfurl their masses
ready their rigging
hoist up their anchors
fly their flags proudly
set sail for seas
plot maps for places
where acceptance
exceeds tolerance, though
the sun is setting for many,
with hurricanes on the horizon
is it better to wreck this ship
smashing it upon the shoals
sending it to the depths
where those who have
fought before rest forevermore
or best to fight the fight
fire the canon
engage in debate with
supreme swashbuckling
does such an armada exist
a coalition of armed privateers
ready to right the wrongs
of a people displaced and disgraced?
1 night 12 kitchens in the midwest April 8, 2009
Posted by Tel in Placed.Tags: family, Food, kitchen, life, Placed, Poem, poems, Poetry
1 comment so far
1
he prays over the pile
of bills wondering if there is
a way to make ends meet
or if it is as hopeless
as trying to tie knots
into his son’s spaghetti o’s
2
he thinks in sarah jessica parker fashion
if he’ll be home at a decent hour tonight
or will he dine alone again with only
a beast that cannot care less unless
the bag of food is left unopen on the steps
3
such a fanciful fowl does nothing
to appease or impress their guests
as she hoped it would on this last night
she decides and slowly tucks away the knife
4
making merry in their
old riverfront mansion,
two entertaining twenty
steamboats serenading and
slipping by their candlelight supper
5
she wrings her hands
imagining the room filled
with laughter echoing
fork-scraped plates
after 63 years his chair
should still be as warm
as the food they keep bringing
6
she cannot look at herself
even in mirror-mild reflecting glass
with her finger tapping
she considers the taste of cotton
maybe marinated in water
7
there is a ding and a slowing whir
steam unfurls and trails behind
as they scurry to another room
eating bites between
the antics of a sponge
shooing away mice and flies
trying to figure out equations
without parents present
8
as long as the wine cooler is full
his mcmansion will not be without
sustenance and so he settles
for a gin and tonic, desert a sidecar
9
she strains herself with 40
years of cast iron memories
still trying to get a recipe
from south of the river right
10
she cannot keep up with
the rachels, emerils, paulas
giadas or contessas
but with the help of a box
she finds solace and certain comfort
and her children get enough
11
they lower their heads below
his thorn-pierced head
and lethargic eyes
hoping to eat in peace
but he seethes, metal rattles
and soon the dishes fly
12
he is never full enough
long after the food is gone
the scent of foreign fishes
fruits chicken-feet spice
red peas and rice
haunt him from afar
Out of Sorts April 8, 2009
Posted by Tel in Placed.Tags: new orleans, Poem, poems, Poetry, travel
2 comments
pardon me if i seem
out of sorts lately
but maybe
i’ve forgotten
who i am
on account of
who I’ve reinvented
myself to be
in a land where no one knows me
but vodka and beer seem to flow almost free
Speechless April 8, 2009
Posted by Tel in Placed.Tags: new orleans, Poem, poems, Poetry
3 comments
what a thing
to be speechless
in a city that appeases
and overloads the senses
the big easy
alone and silent
can be damning
Good People of Canal Street April 8, 2009
Posted by Tel in Placed.Tags: life, new orleans, Placed, Poem, poems, Poetry
1 comment so far
there are good people of the world
i see them at 8 am:
ironing at the sheraton
passed out on the bed
bourbon street still reeling in his head
snorting cocaine or painting her toes
i can’t tell which
then me, a nosey bitch
who they will never meet
i wouldn’t have it any other way
than sharing this life
with the good people of canal street
Baltimore March 9, 2009
Posted by Tel in Placed.Tags: baltimore, Placed, Poem, poems, Poetry
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look closely:
this seaport still sparkles
over the icy harbor
where waters bite
and hide her cast aways-
syringe after syringe after syringe
not all the water can rinse
away her dirty secrets
up the hill
seven men raise a belated toast
to the lone town they love
the fantastic city for them
still seems to gleam
when masked in late night
flashing blue lights and snow
