Poetry is the music of the soul. It rises from the stillness at the center of being, and in the heart becomes a song. Thus is a poet a singer, as was David of the Psalms. Here comes a singer from the den of silverfoxes, a younger in love with an older, to celebrate existence as he feels it, man unto man. He is known as Littleboots. He makes his debut here with his signature poem, followed by six others of equal merit. I love them because they exalt my spirit and send me flying off the ground.
I CALIGULA I see a blue universe, where
I dance with my little boots
On the stars.
And you, my faithful audience
Shall taste true art!
Shall I sing a verse, so
You may hear my eloquence?
Or, shall I dance for you
Dressed like Venus?
My play shall be most pleasant,
Until the horses
Run through my head.
In which case, you
Shall see the art
Of an animal.
Crystal clear perversions
For your entertainment.
Bacchus and I
Have murdered reason, but
This is not true art!
For we could only bury her
In a shallow grave.
PECULATOR
I saw the most beautiful man,
The history of the world
Was written upon his face.
My God! he was magnificent!
When he spoke
Leaping Cherubs
Bore words from his mouth.
When I looked into the light
Of his crystal-blue eyes,
The world became silent.
And I heard
The babbling mysteries
Of far-off temples.
With a glance of his knowing eyes,
He clutched my heart...
Then walked away.
THE LOVER OF WISDOM
If I could take a page
From the book of your life,
I would want the day
That your soul
Fought its most pitched battle.
And I would suffer with you,
And I would tear my hair out
With you, and
I would die with you.
And when the pain subsided,
I would rise up
With you
Like a golden phoenix,
In the flames and glory
Of a trued soul.
And I would make love
To your wisdom.
PLUTARCH
As my eyes read your words
My soul reaches for your soul.
Like a bridge spanning
The canyon of time,
I cross to meet you there.
Grounded on your fertile soil
In your tall grass I lie,
Basking in the light of your magnificent sun,
Listening to your stories.
IN CASTRIS (IN THE CAMPS)
Command me, now!
For I am in your service.
Afford me the opportunity
To prove my virtue.
I long to be
Your wife and your husband,
Like Caesar, ever conquering.
Come, enter this tent,
Like that night in the Rhine.
When we baptized eachother
In the mysteries
Of our manhood.
Touch my muscles
Stiff and erect,
And come to know the meaning
Of your own sentiency.
In the morning,
During the red blaze of battle,
I'll crush every man's skull
That threatens you.
ATTESTED
Imagine yourself
Standing before me,
In your naked glory.
Shaking and transcendental
As I am.
Look into my eyes
As you have never
Looked before,
Speak softly to me,
Like a muse.
Released from the wars
Of discursive battle,
Pulsing tongues now speak
With concern
And gentle wisdom.
From the closeness of our beings,
Raging passion consumes the world...
And this bed becomes
The sacred alter
Where souls entwine and experience.
...While from atop Mt. Olympus
The gods curse us
In their jealous envy...
As their cries become sweet music,
Like that of a shepherd's lyre,
We hold eachother and drift off.
Alcibiades and Socrates,
Swathed, and our love attested,
By the mist of history.
FIELDS OF SUMMER
I desire
To hold you so close to me,
Tightly.
I inspire us
To feel every part of eachother,
Touching every part of eachother.
Lying in Summer's fields
Uncovered,
We blush...
From the sun's silent song
To our skin.
And here, I will show you slowly,
All and everything
That I feel for you.
As Queen Ann's Lace,
Like clouds on stems,
Reflect in your eyes-
So shall I.
