Tony

he has eyes like an indian goddess
they seem to melt in my hands
as i reach around his tall lithe body

he is beautiful

the way i feel when i lean back against him
his long arms encircling

his voice
caressing
as his long fingers
moving over my chest

eyebrows that arch over the rainbows
a glamorous cloud of movement
which has opened upon the ages

fragments translated from a french poem called zinc

Is it possible to fall in love with a photo
or with the whiteness of an arm
a metallic reflexion

my vision opens out like a line of teeth
the reasoning escapes me and the ideas fly away
each fragment a vision of its own truth
angels no longer within my grasp

childhood bragging

he is wearing a fireman's hat

being head of the spider patrol

we search out spiders

then we kill them

my youngest cousin still in diapers

hits me over the head with a tonka truck

while my back is turned

we burn ants under a giant magnifying glass

i eat dandelions, orange paint, paste and dirt

i can step on a bee with my bare feet

i can let my spit hang to the ground

then suck it all in

sitting on the steps 

friends are playing touch football in the street

i want to be inside

sitting in the darkened basement

the shiny black piano bench

a small grey shading tv

marine boy eyes shining

with an unexplainable sadness

perhaps in the eyes of the eternals

weariness pooling in light