I decided to honor the holiday today by wearing a girls’ tank top which features a creepy yet whimsical made-up deity. Continue reading Missing The Pole
Missing The Pole
All posts by Steven Satyricon
San Francisco, where art thou?
“You know, in the sixties, when we said someone was straight, we didn’t mean heterosexual. We meant narrow minded. . . And I don’t have any preparation for or any inclination to live in a completely straight world.”
–Penny Arcade
Today, Facebook has been all abuzz with talk about Tallywackers, a soon-to-be-open restaurant in Dallas, Texas, which is basically going to do for penises and gay guys what titties do for hetero men at Hooter’s. They are to be located in the Oak Lawn district, which is the main gay drag of Dallas. It’s no joke; some entrepreneurial homos in Texas are making a legitimate go of it with this concept–and I, for one, believe they’ll probably manage to be pretty successful, if they do it right. Continue reading San Francisco, where art thou?
Pangaea
As children we are taught
connecting the dots
as an exercise more in
counting
than in abstract thinking;
To apply the term’s more
metaphoric
use is not, strictly speaking,
encouraged
in children of the modern world.
Continue reading Pangaea
Small beginnings
Since this post is essentially nothing more than a bookmark tucked between the cover and front pages of a newly-purchased novel, i’ll refrain from a bloviated rumination. Just watch this space, mmkay?
-steven
Mikvah/Mitzvah
Here. Now. Under an impossibly open sky,
The Full Moon streaming into this endless pool
as ocean waves crash and roll nearby;
We turn spirals, intertwined, wordless,
Our tears mingling saltwater into chlorine…
These moments of magic, unspoken
as days pass into years between us:
Another here, another now,
Words of healing shouted over thrumming electric beats,
Another embrace, far away from oceans now,
Dressed to save the world
(or at least each other)
in a desert haven, escaped from daily life.
Continue reading Mikvah/Mitzvah
Behind Closed Doors
For one week now
Each time I arrive at work
Unlocking the door is slightly easier
The key which unlocks the shop
Can no longer be confused
With another key
You see
Its doppelganger of brass
No longer shares space on my keyring
Continue reading Behind Closed Doors
A Roommate At 30
I’ve seen the photos of the past—
You standing on the Porch by candlelight,
Hair long and dark like a curtain
From behind which you waited to emerge.
How odd to reconcile that image
With the woman i met years hence!
No more did the locks hang down, dragging
As a heavy cloth spun by the Fates—
Instead i saw you bright and fiery, sporting
A nest of snakes cropped to fluorescent perfection. Continue reading A Roommate At 30
Brooklyn–Manhattan
New York, New York
It’s been five fucking years
and the world’s still ending…
I’m standing in this room with Katie
and how many strangers
all these pictures,
words, the pain still fresh
throbbing through the layers of concrete
under my feet.
Manhattan New York I love you so much
I do really I swear
this feeling arises in me unfamiliar;
this connection to you like my lover Continue reading Brooklyn–Manhattan
Chiaroscuro
(pt. 1)
Laying down my note in his bedroom’s threshold,
I use his soft snoring to gauge the chances of my exit
being successful;
if whether i will be in the elevator or on the sidewalk or further
before his breathing changes slightly–
semi-consciously his body will remember the absence
of another laying next to his… Continue reading Chiaroscuro
Bad Skin
Sifting through these photos of you,
Five years now passed between us–
I feel stricken by how boyish you appear:
Red spots dapple your brow,
a testament (perhaps) to Southern climates
or certain cruelties of youth,
and hormones.
I even now remember how the passions swelled
in you, back then;
Embarrassingly–as always seems to be the case
in such hindsights–
Just as i cringe at the hairstyles, the expressions,
Awkwardness i fear inescapable. Continue reading Bad Skin