Confessions of a Gay Poet

CONFESSIONS OF A FAG POET 

“And there's also this interesting 
split between what I call the 
"university fag poets" and the 
"urbanite arty fag poets"—MM 
_________________

I began my so-called—
Poetry career as nothing
More than a dizzy ditsy
Sugar Daddy Poet

It was seemingly the—
Only thing I was somewhat
Good at—that and being a
Rather spoiled kept man

So very tres dilettantish—
I’d wake up in the morning
Haunted by a gay haiku
Then live it the whole day

My Sugar Daddy smiled—
He let me dabble & detour
My life away as long as I
Was a fairly decent lover

Tricking can get old, honey—
I was ready for some decent
Domestica Americana and so
I ended up a gay Housewife
______________

Long before Gay Marriage—
Was officially on the books
We gradually got used to
Each other & were happy

Trips to lovely Mt. Rainier—
Dope, wine & a hibachi 
Lovely weekends there by
The rushing Carbon River

My German Professor—
Sugar daddy encouraged
Me to publish, not that it
Was publish or perish then

It was more like being—
Tres gay feuilletonistic 
a la “Talk of the Town” 
THE NEW YORKER-esque 

I gossiped about this—
And that from a flippant
Dizzy perspective, sort
Of “gay translationese”
____________

I didn’t take poetry—
Very seriously back then
But Gay Sunshine Press
And Fag Rag liked it

CHICKEN (1979)—
Was a hodge-podge of
Neo-Twink-Uranian 
Minor little ditties

Then just like that—
My other preoccupation
And faggy obsession got
Printed: SIZE QUEEN (1981)

I was quite surprised—
When I appeared in the
Classic THE PENGUIN BOOK
OF HOMOSEXUAL VERSE

As well as the elegant—
SON OF THE MALE MUSE
What in the world was it
That I was doing right?
_______________

I was just a slovenly—
Lazy ditsy Urbanite Arty
Fag Poet, hardly a chic
"University Fag Poet"

I lacked the class—
The concentration, the
Stick-to-itiveness of a
Serious tenured poet

I lacked any ambition—
To “publish or perish”
Heaven forbid, honey,
I’d perished long ago!!!

I was more like my—
Mother sipping her beer
Smoking her Kents and
Doing cross-word puzzles

Words had a way of—
Fascinating me the way
They somehow expressed
The mysteries of faggotry
___________

Besides Youth and Size—
There was lots of things
To preciously ponder late
At night after a trick

To be an urbane urbanite—
arty faggy poet for me was 
to be rather laissez-faire:
"let them do as they will"

Poetry transactions were—
Between private parties like
The Reader and the Poet who
Were pretty much on their own

The poetic environment for me—
Was free from the restrictions
Of Academe, Government or
The busy Publishing Business

Free of restrictions, tariffs and—
Subsidies, scholarships, stipends,
Property rights, publish or perish,
Or even royalties (what’s that?)
____________

When my beloved Sugar Daddy—
Passed away I had to eventually
Become a Welfare Queen Poet
Struggling as best I could, dears

Scholars generally believe a—
Laissez-faire state or a completely 
Free market has never existed
Especially with us faggy poets

But now that Gay Marriage—
And ENDA & DADT have gone
Mainstream giving us a rather
Heteronormative Lifestyle…

Well, I must confess now—
The gay muse’s nice little
Bit of queer nomenclature 
"urbanite arty fag poets"

Fits rather nicely into my—
Meandering Modern Maturity
Years as a faggy fruitcake
Authoress still in the racket!!!