Sunday, January 31, 2010

Harder




I'm not your Perfect Houseboy.
I'm not your Perfect Lover.
I'm not your Perfect Artist.

I'm a Whore.
And it feels good to be loved.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Paridise.









Photos by Riki Tinoza, landscapes by M.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Prisa.


And what will you do
when you are home?
Will you be watching reruns?

And what will you do
day & night?
What's home to you now?

Yes, you say,
you'll have your
photos galore
and
laundry to warsh

But what will happen next week?
Who'll hide in your grave?
Who'll gain your weight?

Image: Boys on Film by David J. Romero

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Beware




His body is a triangle.
His shoulders are broad, bulky-
like Dynasty shoulder pads.
His midsection narrows into a tiny waist.

He is an upside-down triangle.

He eats constantly but he's always moving,
twitching.
He wants sex 24-7 and you feel like a prude
for not giving it to him three times a day.

He is a shape. A fantasy come alive.
With him you are free from responsibilities.

Beware:
You aim too high.

Photo by Riki Ndinga O

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Cadillacs


I have been dealing with
"relationships & love".
Please don't think I'm so BITTER
but right now I have to resolve
some issues in my life that are
potentially DESTRUCTIVE.

You could have said NO
at any time.
You don't have to take part
in my short bursts of tenderness.
THIS is not Saturn.

(I picked up my things
got a trip
to a land of never-ending trains
to a new city
where I can date your ghosts)

Photo by Hans Ning

Playboy Redux




Photos by Wallsoft

Monday, January 11, 2010

Master


A heart is a dangerous thing.
They tick like bombs with wires that stretch out across your entire body.
There is no choice between the red wire or the blue wire.
They are all the same.
All cuts are fatal.

Photos by Chris Teel

Seeds (Part 1)


The past kisses hard and buries itself deep in my belly,
seeds spill out of my mouth, taking shapes of islands.
I give them names, spanish sounding names
and place them around our bodies.

I've kissed your roots, your Western dreams.
I've imagined myself in the most boring places,
always at your side.

I am dumb & blind and will follow you drooling.

I want to be the plastic boyfriend, the gym-buddy boyfriend, the sexy boyfriend.
I want to be half of that gay couple that all the
heteros invite to their dinner parties to make
their Crayola collection complete.
Him? He's a doctor and has a dick that won't die.
Me? I run marathons and avoid carbs after 3pm.

I hold on, some days bitter,
some days happy & blind.
I hold on but I can't wrestle from you what I want.
No more piercings, no more accents.
No boy, no sweater to keep you warm.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

One Year Ago



Photo by Riki Ndinga O

Janus


What is this bridge you speak of?
This secret meeting point?
What good are these promises
when eaten?

Eat these miles
and swallow these roads.
When your belly is full,
my head will be on your pillow.

Photos by Eric Pelletier

Tell me this cock won't die.
Tell me this dog won't bite.

Self-portrait as a two-headed dog

Fears



Tell me your fears
in yer own language.
I'll understand.
Every word.
Tell me all.

Me? I'm scared to paint.
I'm scared to write.
I'm scared to love
a beautiful man.

My fears are my halo.

Photo by Leo Pelletier

Oh Vanity!


Burn the station wagon, bury the cock
Reread the letters until the words become whiskey.
Stomp the smooches, wipe the sling clean,
Leave the past to the boy and become the MAN.

Oh, freedom!
Oh, singledom!
Oh, uncertain future!

Photo by Eric Pelletier