On my knees, everything is poetry, flowers and whatnot
If I say it’s art, it is
Hard, spiritual work, this embodied business
Throwing energy around a roomful of muscle-lust
In the realm of men and need
There’s one for every erogenous zone
1, 2, 3, 4 … Houston, we have liftoff
Feels like gravity and freedom colliding to me
Whenever Queerspace is obtained
With all the attendant dangers dangling like live
Wires
People die doing this … and that … (not to mention what those guys are
up to
over there)
People get killed for doing what I do
People would kill to do what I do
Gayer, queerer, and going down
I wouldn’t trade my center for anything
I am a big American homo and I write poems
It’s not a metaphor
Bodily fluids splatter willy-nilly
Names do not get showered in the stars
People die and die and die and
I write poems
People get tormented and I write poems
People fall out of love and I write poems
It’s not enough
It doesn’t make everything okay
Not the torture, not the cruelty, not the hatred, not the allegiance to
darkness
Not the tightly gripped bigotry, not the well-practiced homophobia
I want to rewrite the world on my knees
It’s hard to swallow this world
Whole
But I do what I do and then some
I’m a huge fag, and it’s a miracle
I’m alive, I’m on my knees, and a poem is sprouting
It’s growing, it’s jam packed, and it’s in my face
It’s you
It’s all you and suddenly
All the metaphors in the world could not make this moment
More
Like love, we are
Full of spunk, full of our selves, full of shit, full to bursting
In love and past the breaking point
This is how we fall
Horehound Stillpoint’s poetry has been published in magazines and anthologies such as The James White Review, Excursus, Out in the Castro, Poetry Nation, Men Amplified, Poetry Slam, beyond definition, and Gents, Bad Boys, and Barbarians.