FEAST NIGHT

This feast night. Candy floss
by the plastic bag and hot dogs. Onions.
A swig of vodka
round the back of the Waltzer.
Scream if you want to go faster.
I touched his hand
on the twister and he touched mine back,
I think. Dangerous lights.
Someone is raging against the autumn dark
with bareknuckles.
A gang of lads
menace the dodgems. They swing
mallets. He fingers
her against the caravan. His breath
is hotter than whiskey
in her breasts and neck.
She notices
his fingernails have not been cut.

PAUL

He is on the phone to Paul,
keeping his conversation all quiet like.
There is a lot he don't know,
that he mumbles.
He wants him to get his ears pierced,
these little lobes.
He wants him to go holes in his ears
and go down to Hull.

He is so young and beautiful
I want to have sex with him.
I want to be all over his bones
and nibble
them small lobes.
I want to go all holes with him
and go down to Hull with him.
To hell with Paul
whoever Paul is.

WILLIAM CHARLES EVERLOVE BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

William Charles Everlove, 28 years old
STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN VIA ARIZONA, $40

He was never here
He never came
He was a ghost

I was never intimate
I never inhaled
I was alone

Somebody was never in the room next door
Somebody never heard
Somebody was in Texas

He was never anyone
He never lied
He was nothing

I was never told where he went
I never cared
I was important

CHRIS BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Chris, 28 years old
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, $30

As I learned early
to draw the dollar -
an 's', 
some numbers
and two vertical lines,
with Chris it was simple

It was like he had rehearsed.
His small hands
unfastening my button fly,
reciting a four times table
by rote.

We met no more than seven times
according to my diary
when he 'disappeared.'

Afterwards, my journeys west
grew short. I felt
his breath behind my neck the one time
in the car and saw his shadow
in the parking lot

lengthening towards me.

IKE COLE BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Ike Cole, 38 years old
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, $25

On aisle 3
you can buy milk
and you can get butter
and cream and cheese
and yoghurt

On aisle 9
you can buy Frosted Wheats
and you can get Corn Flakes
and Nutrigrain bars
and Coco Pops and Lucky Charms

On aisle 2
you can buy plums
and you can get cabbage
and spinach and thyme
and habanero peppers

On aisle 15
you can buy frozen peas
and you can get fish fingers
and potato waffles and swede
and oven fries

On aisle 7
you can buy vodka
and you can get Bacardi
and tequila
and Napoleon brandy and bourbon

On aisle 4
you can buy kitchen towel
and you can get toilet roll
and bin liners
and make-up and sterident

A moment where you forget
what you were doing with your life
and you've left your wallet in the car
and you are holding bread and beers
and you are meeting Ike at 6

On aisle 10
you can buy peanuts
and you can get pretzels
and crisps and Mini Cheddars
and Pringles

On aisle 6
you can buy lemonade
and you can get Coca-Cola
and Pepsi cola
and cherryade and bottled water

MAJOR TOM BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Major Tom, 20 years old
KANSAS CITY, KANSAS, $20

He'd scratch at the track marks
on his ankles and arms.
He never looked at anything anywhere
for more than a second
and made me nervous.

I think I loved him like a movie star,
like anybody you'd see in a gossip column.
He kinda reminded me
of the corpse of River Phoenix,
as if he'd been laid out for the tourists.

I tried to see him less and less
and each time he shrank.
Last time he was bone
and when I stroked his skin
I swear it came off in my hand.

He only wanted to see himself in a magazine.
He thought he'd be astronaut by now.

ANDRE SMITH BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Andre Smith, 28 years old
BATON ROUGE, LOUISIANA, $30

Dusk. The coin falls drip.
A plastic palm frond shivers in the breeze
of an opening door that closes
on a scuff of dust.

Outside on the parking lot, Andre,
a black youth, muscle gilded bronze
in sunset, waits
for somebody to get lucky.

The drawers glide out and in.
Silver stacks and slips.
It's a well oiled machine.
In a motel, lubricant prepares the skin.

ERIC HOLT BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Eric Holt, 19 years old
SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO, $25

I'd call Eric on Fridays, some time
after midnight when the news
and a bottle of Jack grew stale
bedfellows.

I first picked him out on the Boulevard.
Drove him the cool night road
out of town in the convertible
with the roof down.

I think of Eric. The smell of his hair.
The way he sipped his water. His cock.
I feel shame, but never stopped
him coming.

MICHAEL GOMEZ BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Michael Gomez, 34 years old
CHICAGO ILLINOIS, £30

Hello Michael, it's me. Is that you?

Could you come over tonight,

I'm feeling pretty scared?

No, don't turn on the light.

Don't turn on the light.

Turn it off.

What is it you're smoking these days?

Would you like to bum

one of mine? Don't turn on the light.

A bust heater stuck on high.

White cotton. Sweat in his elbows.

Please Michael, don't turn on the light.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

A female girlie club entertainer in Weimar Berlin

A newly engaged couple have a breakdown

Four fascist libertines round up 9 teenage boys and girls

A homosexual man is forced to hide his sexuality

An ambitious Asian Briton and his white lover

Two best friends living on the streets of Portland as hustlers

He hires a homophobic small time lawyer

Eddy and Stuart share two-thirds of a dormitory suite

A genius 16-year-old 19th century poet

His neighbour is beaten by his father and comes to stay

He tries to deny he's gay and gets a yellow label

Brendan Behan is befriended as a teenager

A 15 year old Long Island boy loses everything

A teenage hustler and young man obsessed with alien abductions

The owner of a beauty clinic and a transsexual

A group of New Yorkers caught up in their sexual milieu

The story of Harvey Milk

His typical days in 1960s Los Angeles

His most famous poem is illustrated in animation

Russell heads out to a gay club

RENT

£4.75 on the taxi meter
River Phoenix only got blown the once
Joseph Gordon Levitt never feared AIDS
Nobody loved you more than I did
Keep coming back bring your friends
Count the twenties into my hand before
This place costs £300 a month each
Outcalls need to cover expenses
He'll get me jobs for a 10% cut
Where do you think I got the money for this
River Phoenix paid the bills
Do you want me to wash after football
The ibroprufen are in the bathroom cabinet
The paracetamol are in the bathroom cabinet
I always keep a knife in this third drawer down
I never leave the meter running
I'll fuck you like they do in the movies
I can earn a week's rent in 45 minutes
Paying for sex isn't tax deductible
If you like we could get a hotel room
The best trick I had fed me coke and Champagne
Two is OK but five can get heavy
Anything kinky is extra
Joseph Gordon Levitt pretended to get fucked
The razors are in the bathroom cabinet
Not all of this happens under cover of nightfall
I keep my money in the locked top drawer
There are some things even I won't do
River Phoenix never got rimmed
Pick some porn from the pile in the corner
I always keep a knife in this third drawer down

CRUISING

for SM

The two of us, here, playing thugs.

Let's get roughed up behind the bank.

We'll bruise ourselves with shame and lust.

You can leave your wedding ring on

and I'll play pussy. Drop these masks

like trousers. Now we are real men.

Afterwards, you'll tuck your shirt in

to your still damp crotch, wipe your hand

on the brick. I'll rub the bite mark

on my cheek and worry what I'll...

We never exchange names, just shrugs.

We melt to life, anonymous.

Image taken from this excellent blog: here

BLOODLINES

What r u into? Do you

do bb? 

Only with guys I know.

Not on the first time.

Only with guys who will.

The flesh in the flesh

in the blood

and the blood.

We must not judge.

LOVE POEM

I found this written on the back
of the gent's toilet cubicle door
of The Globe in February, 2003:

for oral here call 07XXX-XX6532
(I'll keep your number private
If you keep calling back).

Our fingers are tender from dialing.

BUNNY, DARLING!

for BC

Bunny, darling! You simply can't
tell me it's a prima facie
observation of domestic violence.
The man was loops; it's a grotesque.
And nobody will tell me what I can
or cannot laugh at in a theatre.

Bunny, darling! I don't care
if Hugh Jackman sings delightful
and the lyric's magical.
It isn't canon. It's not the repertoire.
It's not the repertoire, sweety.

Bunny, darling! Don't you dare
pretend you didn't squeal
when the "ugly brothers" licked
their hands and stuck them
down their shorts. Bunny,
Bunny! Don't you dare pretend!

Bunny, darling! If you need a shoulder,
mine will be in the third row
of the matinee performance.
Look for the purple salwar kameez,
the scent of Chloe in the dust,
and I will hold you Bunny,
darling, I'll bring tissues.


Now with soundcloud here: Soundcloud

ROCK

You did pillow talk,

keeping your voices low

so the kids couldn't hear

the sex. There was none.

No breaking of your vows

of silence. Doris Day,

marvelling at your straightened pinkie,

was in on the joke.

Nobody heard the sex.

In the darkness and the silvered hush

hands, fumbling under shirts

and projections, find a gasp.

Denim, forced tight, springs open

like a man trap. I have never felt

such excitement. The man in front

says keep it down, but we've come

and it is all over the screen.

THE FAMOUS JOKE

after QC

I don't like peas
and I'm glad I don't like peas
because if I liked them I'd eat them
and I hate peas.

THE LONG ROAD TO KENTUCKY

for GR

It was a long road back to Kentucky
and I did not know the landscape,
if it was all scuffed, mud-frost fields
with the occasional white clapboard church
or if it was oil towns. I do not know the States,
by capital and flag. Some gasoline was drumming
round the trunk and I was filled with hatred.
I'd heard the Bible belt was tight here,
heard that blacks and fags still swung from rope.
I tuned the radio to catch the sermons
between the static. This was Leviticus
and I was nervous. There is no religion.
The sunlight is wide and unforgiving,
no shadows, no soul that hides, no man in the sky
to shout his truths. Just us. Let us be reconciled. 
And here I was, in God's own country, alive.

HOTEL

It was a family room with four made beds
and three light bulbs that didn't light, a fuse
that had blown in a silent hairdryer.

It was home for the night. The choice of beds
whispered hints of sex. I'd never refuse
boys on the phone, hot–breathed as hairdryers.

It was a family room with four made beds
and three light bulbs that didn't light, a fuse
that had blown in a silent hairdryer.

POSITIONS

Do not assume the positions 

of tops and bottoms 

based on their physique and age.

You are not the magazine editor.

Don't think twinks are all the same,

that a lithe body naturally bends 

to the pressure and weight

of muscle hammering down.

These are non-tessellating shapes.

Not all bears aggress their otters

in the wood that masks with leaf 

and twig their transformations.

The Muscle Marys can receive

from tall or short or give it raw 

like tenderised steak on a chopping board.

Some men flip-flop. And some,

who once thundered like showers of gold

onto submissive TS's, now retreat

to murky, watery holes in the guise

of lobsters who have lost their claws.