Chimes Street Journal

Chimes Street Journal V
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Gay Heritage

“slim books are
our heritage”
—John Wieners,
“7/17/59,” The Journal
of John Wieners
707 Joy Street

to nurture it—
all these years since
tiger town sixties ghetto

a sparse thing—
in terms of cutting corners
telling queer stories

she became who she was—
it could only be that way,

such a lazy ditzy queen
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there’s this knot in her head—
and it aint breughel either
her face cracks mirrors

her poems aren’t much—
no big deal or anything much
worthwhile to others

no hallelujah salvations—
no poet laureate broadcasts
no anti-war rants & ravings
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she wrote alone—
for herself, yours truly,
didn't read what she wrote

there was no need for—
public readings unless it
was her beads being read

that’s why poetry—
was so useless, helplessly
impersonal as a blow job
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she didn’t use it—
for anything practical other

than cocksucking memoirs

it just happened—
like ejaculations, wetdreams,
a kid's nocturnal emission

what could be more—
natural than that, surely
just a waste of time?
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a natural thing—
like breathing, pissing, shitting
cuming and dreaming

faggy & involuntary—
like miss proust suggested
tea, marmalade & boyz?

a violent dominatrix—
bent on black leather, high heels
whips to evoke jaded jive?
_________________

involuntary like language—
millions of moiling words out there
day-to-day crummy lives

the daily carnage—
bloody propaganda, powerbrokers
ponzi-esque corporate queens

later on that night—
she smokes a fat joint
rockets to the moon