by David E. Patton
(07/14/10)

When I am quietly
Cutting away the
Fragrance of other
People's lovemaking
The curative gush
Of distant flowers
Lounge in the taunt
Mouth of unharvest
Occasional regrets
When I am the
Stalwart of love
A yelling shower
Of something to
Suck like fresh
People in dark
Theaters involved
In their lovemaking
And some kid
Calls me faggot
Because he heard
It from his father
I am untouched
By my senses
Long like crystal
Stem ware of
Occasional virgins
And pillow rubbed
By the hair
For good luck
When I am
The solution kept
Uncertain and
Improper by no
Means that can
Count the pubic
Hairs plucked
From around
The dick I leave
The combination of
Dirty jockstraps and
Metal lockers
To the day keeper
Who clean up
Behind us like
Some forgotten poet
Who once touched
Our hearts with
Face fucking art
When my specimen
Is spawned by
Sperm clinging
To balls that
Smells of sweaty
Locker-room and
Beauty boys soon
To pop their first
Nuts then will
The long held secret
Of absent-minded
Poets rush to
Our age and
Kill our rage
Misplaced in
Lush ways that we
Cascade with a
Gush beautiful
As daily change
And much luck
For the bent dick
That I was
Sense to suck
And blunt my tongues
To tell fresh people
That the lounge is
Always along
Always improper
Without a song
Of regrets for
The bathroom sex
And glory holes
Occasionally in a
Gray day ways
Thick as machines
Gone insane by
Motion and metal
Reframes like
Some old song
That soaps the dope
Of yelling faggot
In a stupid way.

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