Lazarus Kiss.36

Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.

May you be embraced by a love beyond recall that alters others

and a love within recall that alters you.


Lazarus Kiss.36

“First grade bullies ata new school pushed me ‘round. I went nuts. Beat the crap out o’one of ‘em. Broke his nose ‘fore they broke us up. I was small. When I got goin’ nothin’d stop me. I got angry easy. M’ma figured I should get a way to … direct that anger.”

“Won’um high-school.” Alex took the trophy. “Meant to get rid of ‘em but never could.”

“I wasn’t into sports.” Harris patted his belly. “This is enough weight for me to lift.”

Harris looked at the framed photos of Alex along the wall  by the door.

“From when I was on the pro circuit.”

One of them showed Alex shaking hands with a man in a business suit who presented him an ornate belt.

“Won m’ division that year. Called it quits soon after though.” Alex sipped his beer.

“Looks like a lot of work.”
“I enjoyed it. It was a way to channel m’energy. A polite way of sayin’ I had anger management issues. Never saw a fight I could resist even if I didn’t start it. Linda said I had somethin’ to prove. I never reckon what.”

“That you were the toughest?”

“Maybe somethin’ like that.”

“So why did you stop?”

“Funny t’ing was, the more I fought, the angrier I got, ya know. Got me more pumped up. I got bored of trash talk before and after the bouts. Huffin’ an’ puffin’. Too much worry about what to say, when I wanted to be poundin’.”

“What was your fight name?”

“Fuck.” Alex laughed. “ ‘Ats professional wrestling. No masks or capes for us. This was nothin’ like that. Bareknuckles an’ brute strent. I fought as m’self. Sometimes I’d be called the Axeman. That’s A X E not Ass. Alex ‘the Axeman’ S. People liked them ‘x’s.” Alex became more animated as he spoke.

“Sounds like you miss it.”

“Yeah. It felt good t’ sweat. T’ bleed and win. Th’ other crap took too much space in m’ head. Always havin’ t’ be huffin’ and puffin’ t’ get people t’ notice ya. Bad as pro wrestling. Then …” he finished his beer. “Another?”

“No. I’m still working on this one. Then what?”

“We sometime did this run t’Detroit. Had to be careful. It was under cover exhibition matches. Not sanctioned. Plus we couldn’t fight and get paid in the states. I never understood that part of it but this time a guy got hurt. Bad. By me. I just lost it. Hurt him real bad.” Alex stopped. “Something came over me while we were going at it. Testoserone or I don’t know what.”

“By bad you mean … ”

“He died. Doc said something his brain popped. That it coulda anytime but picked while I was poundin’ him in the face. That was when I tore m’ back. I used that … ya know to get out of d’ game. Back shit they understood. Killing a guy was suppose t be good for a rep. That wasn’t the rep I wanted.”

Harris wasn’t sure what to say. Knowing more about Alex didn’t ease the longing the curse had forced upon him instead he was more emotionally drawn to him.

“It shook me up. I could’t get back in the ring. Tried a few times but it made me sick. I did this’n’that. Bartending. Ya know the stuff ya do when ya got no skills.  Bartending. Waiting table.”

“My life hasn’t been that exciting. I was one of those nerdy guys. Dirty thoughts and little action. My biggest thrill was to get to the comic book store. This curse thing has pushed me out of my comfort zone a lot too. I didn’t know I was in such a …. a rut. Made a few changes. Finally cut my hair.”

“I remember guys like you when I was in school. Sorry to say, loved shoving you around. To prove how tough I was, so no one else would shove me around.”

“How ironic … no … paradoxical that we’d end up pushed together like this. The bully and the bullied.” Harris wanted to make Alex not feel bad about his past. “We all get caught up in …. doing things without knowing what we were doing at the time. Like how this curse has put us together. Neither of us planned it, plotted it or thought about it while it was happening.”

“We gotta to live with it.” Alex put his hand on Harris’s inner thigh.

“I have to get going.” Harris finished his beer. “I have a date. Glad I could help with your spooge residue.” That was true, if he met up with Becky, it sounded like a total lie once he said it.

They both stood at the same time.

“You’re as scared as I am aren’t you.” Alex faced him. “I don’t know much, this family curse of your or whatever it is, but it is tearing me up inside. We can’t keep avoid where it’s pushing us. We can’t.”

The beer bottle Alex clutched cracked in his grip.

“Shit!” he dropped it. Beer sloshed on to Harris feet.

“You okay?”

“I reckon so.” Alex turned his hand,  palm up. “Didn’t cut m’self. My hide is tough from wiping all those tables.”

He ran his hand along Harris’s arm.

“Does it feel rough to you?”

“No.” Harris took a deep breath and stepped into Alex’s arms.

They embraced.  Alex’s forehead was at Harris chin hight. He looked up and bit Harris lightly on the jaw, continued biting as Harris lowered his head so they could kiss. This time Alex wasn’t as forceful as he had been at his apartment the night of the rain storm. His tongue tasted of beer.

“That wasn’t all that bad.” Alex stepped back. “Sit. This’ll make it easier for ya. Like I told ya this man on man, was a shocker to me. I couldn’t shake it, I figured if I watched what it was all about it would enough. Ya know get rid of these … urges. I watched this porno. I can’t tell ya how many I gave up on after five seconds. I got computer feed hooked into the TV.”

The porn started. It was called Learning to Pitch For The Other Team. It was two guys meeting on a street. They were guys Harris saw everyday on the subway or walking down the street. Average Joe’s with decent figures. Not gym buff at all.

While he watched, Alex got them another couple of beers.

The guys in the porno were suddenly in a living room. On the wall over the couch were a pair of baseball pennants. They talked about a ball game they were going to later that day. The taller of the two went to the kitchen and brought back a couple of beers.

They continued to talk. Sat closer.

Alex sat closer to Harris. As one of the guys on the screen put his arm around the other Alex did the same to Harris. The other guy put his hand on tall guy’s thigh. Harris did that. The guys in the porn talked but Harris couldn’t hear them. All he could sense was Alex close to him, his own hand moving along Alex’s thigh, to his crotch. Alex’s legs opened wider.

“Yeah. You wanna touch that, don’t you.” Alex breathed into his ear. “Go on.”

Harris didn’t want to touch. It was like adjusting a graphic image only he could actually feel it.

Alex kissed him. His stubble rubbed Harris’s face. He pushed Alex away.

“No, Alex! This is way too much.”

“Slowly. We can take it slow.” Alex pulled Harris tee-shirt off. Ran his tongue from his collar bone and down to his nipples. He bit gently, than harder.

Harris began to push him away but it felt okay. The slight pain was pleasant enough. The warm tongue mixed the with the scrape of stubble, the solid bite of teeth. Plus it was being done to him. He merely had to let it happen.

Alex moved to the other nipple and while he bit, his hand massaged Harris’s cock. Harris was surprised that he got hard. It didn’t make sense to him but curse or not, if this good looking guy wanted to suck his dick, such is life.

Alex stopped biting his nipples to kiss him again. “This isn’t too much for you is it.”

“I guess not.” He kissed back. Their tongues moving together. He let Alex guide his hand back on his cock as he continued to caress Harris’s.

“Why don’t we get out of these.” Alex stood, pulled off his polo shirt at the same time. He hauled Harris to his feet. With bare belly to bare belly he unbuckled, then pushed Harris’s jeans down, wriggled out of his sweat pants.

“Let’s … take a shower?” Harris suggested. “I’ve been at work all day, you know. I may not be my freshest.” He laughed. Anything to delay the inevitable.

“Sure. It’s this way.”

The bathroom was tiny. The shower stall was barely large enough for two people to stand up but not to wash. They had to slip and slide around each other to get under the shower head.

“I’ll just help you soap up and rinse down.”

Alex’s hands moved quickly all over Harris’s body. Touching his cock, balls, awkwardly washing his feet. He started on Harris’s ass and stopped.

“I can’t go there.” He spit water. “I thought I could but I can’t” He stepped out of the shower.

Harris followed.

#Toronto #amwriting #dating #lgbtq #nanowrimo #novel

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Can’t wait to read the whole thing? order the PDF for $5.00 – – say you want Kiss


Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr


Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

This work is licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

G  Whizzes

Henryk Gorecki is a composer caught in the ‘big hit’ category thanks to his powerful Symphony No. 3. Dawn Upshaw’s performance in the Cantabile section sent this piece to the top of the classical charts for decades. I love the deep lulling emotional resonance of this symphony – yet have not felt the need to seek out more by Gorecki. A must have for any classical fan or anyone who enjoys those emotionally compelling musical moments in motion picture funerals.

Louis Moreau Gottschalk: A Night in the Tropics. Here we have the opposite of Gorecki – a nearly forgotten AfroAmerican classical composer. Part of my personal mandate to widen my musical worldview to seek out what is rarely represented to the view of the world I get. This is rich, playful & pleasant program music. Impressionist with w strong Creole flavour. A clear inspiration for Scott Joplin.

So this wider world view moves from Polish, to AfroAmerican to Spanish with 3 cds of Enrique Granados’s piano music: Goyscas/Folk Songs; Piano Music 7; Piano Music 8. I first heard Segoiva playing guitar transcriptions & was fully expecting Granados to have written only for guitar & was amazed that in fact piano was his focus. The music is full of great for melody, subtle Spanish sadness & joy. Goyescas are his impressions of the famous & sometimes disturbing etchings of Goya.


Impressionistic, romantic at times to the point of florid this is classical music that welcomes new ears to the world of non-pop in a way that isn’t intimidating or emotionally dry. His Andaluza (Spanish dance no.5) may be one of the most popular & recognizable pieces of Spanish music you didn’t know he had written.


Daphne shook the parchment over the candle flame. Small burn marks appeared but she moved it so no more than a slight smoulder was seen. As she moved the paper I let a few splashes of the albino newt’s blood fall from the glass dropper. They simmered a moment as the heat drew them into the paper.

‘We’ll know in a moment, Syc, if …. ‘

The parchment burst into flame. Daphne let go and the blackened flakes drifted to the floor where I stepped on them to prevent singe marks on the carpet.

‘That’s a sure a sign as any.’ She brushed her hands clean.

‘It is?’

‘Oh yes. No sign is as powerful as any sign. It means you aren’t to know. That you are diverting valuable energy from where it needs to go to pursue this avenue of thought.’

‘It can’t be.’

‘That attitude won’t get you very far here. Anything can be.’

‘But … that’s why I am here. To learn to see, foretell. If I can’t see how well my studies will go what’s the point.’

‘The point is …’ came from the doorway behind us. We both spun around. ‘… until your studies have begun there is nothing to foretell.’

‘Cal how long have you been there.’

‘Long enough Daph. Long enough.’

He came into the room with Lear.

‘Did a good job on that PA system today. Why does it take two of you?’

‘It doesn’t.’ Lear sat on the edge of the window. ‘But it looks better when two of us do it. Makes it look harder than it is, so that on those rare times one of us does it alone people are even more impressed.’

‘Always something with you two.’

‘Yeah.’ Caliban looked at Lear and they laughed.

‘I know you aren’t here to line us up for a double date.’

‘And pray tell Daph why would you say that?’

‘Look guys, I may be new here but I’ve been around. You two are …’ she stopped.

‘Are what?’ I asked. ‘Are brothers?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Oh. Bounders?’

‘Amongst other things yes. Bonded is the word we chose though. Goes a step beyond Bounders. United in more than blood and bone.’

‘You mean,’ it sunk in. So much for my erotic fantasy about Caliban and those sturdy legs of his. ‘How long?’

‘About four years now.’


chapbooks for sale


HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

Tuesday – September 19 – feature – Art Bar Poetry series – 8 p.m., Free Times Cafe, #20 College At., Toronto – $5.00http://It’s No Accident

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

‘silence is manslaughter’

Hot Damn! launched it’s 4th season (may the 4th be with you) at  Buddies In Bad Times Theatre Thursday night with rainbow-high-energy, out-to-win slammers, fearless open stagers & a wildly enthusiastic full house. Charlie Petch was in fine form keeping things flowing & the energy somewhere over the rainbow.

First set of open stagers & slammers: by the time you are able to read this, you may not remember me – I was told I could pave the way for women, why can’t I pave the way for all mankind – teens decomposing their own songs – this place smell of chance & lost dreams – less that nothing is still something – if it all means nothing, why not have fun – I dream of things I never want to see again – I wake to fear walking above ground – pour smoke over my heart – Wendy’s pigtails never fit the little boy that worse the – you wanna say best & breast comes out – I say I’m sorry more than I say I love you.

Andre Prefontaine’s feature set was amazing – emotionally resonant, overflowing with rich images, vibrant precise anger, & sassy theatricality. Honey, he was tougher than any nail they used to stab you – my Dad uses your homosexuality like a pair of scissors that cuts you out of his picture – worry about the future is a tragic waste of your imagination – I’m so calm it’s almost like disassociating – don’t you know how difficult it is to blow someone and do origami at the same time – hold the bible like brass knuckles – silence is manslaughter – people killing people for killing people.

After a much needed break – during which I got to hand out flyers for my feature (see below) – I picked up a couple of copies of Andre Prefontaine’s new chap book & got caught up with Vanessa McGowan. (when is her Hot Damn! feature?) I started out the second set of open stagers with my hair piece (see below).

From the rest of the night: that little crack makes you so human – I’ve never been struck by lightning – my body tells the truth when it shows the scars that anchor me to the reality of what happened – biting is cool, bite marks are not – we can’t use my name as a safety word – you left tiny blades my throat where you name used to be – the art of drowning in perfect make up – the rest of you is still living – never explain lost battles for your recovery – somehow your pain is never about you – being gay is more than whatever gender you choose – anatomy trump compassion – that word holds a power I cannot overcome – do you know where you are – chill of frosting in my bones – I smell like a Wes Craven movie –

Scores were added up & an array of prizes were handed out. Teddy Syrette took the Queirdo Prize for funnest bingo poem. Ezra Stewart took first spot in a tight race for a chance to win the big big prize: a trip to Washington DC (if Canadians are still allowed into the USA next summer) to attend Capturing Fire.

Next Hot Damn! is Gueph! Sept 30th. Hot Damn! returns to Toronto at Buddies In Bad Times Theatre on November 30.

Don’t Touch (My Hair)

she was a stranger

who felt no compunction

in reaching out to touch my hair

I must have been in my mid-twenties

at the time

my hair was freshly washed

shoulder length

‘it’s like baby hair,’ she said

I was a natural blond

even blonder

after a month of summer sun

‘I would kill to have hair like yours’

she smiled

‘thanks’ I replied

not adding

that I hate my hair

I hate it being so smooth

hate being asked

are you a boy or are you girl

being called fruit

by guys because of my hair

not that I was mr masculine

to begin with

shortly after that

I dyed my hair for the first time

I wanted a change

I bought a home kit

to make it permanent jet black

the look was striking

my mother said

‘what were you thinking’

I went to work

raised a few eye brows

but no comments

the black faded after the first wash

so much for permanent

in a week it was ash

in three weeks

back to baby fine blond

my hair

was like my sexuality

something I couldn’t disguise

no matter what women

I flirted with

no matter what I tried to call it

bi questioning pan

no matter what I drank to blot it out

it would always be

like my hair

something I was powerless over

something I hadn’t constructed

something I had to live with

I remember my first perm

a head of tight blond curls

they bounced in the light

it was my face

but a different me

the stylist conferred with a colourist

both agreed

that my hair was too fine

to hold colour for long

that it would be a shame

to tamper with it anyway

the permanent curls

would flatten within a week

I wasn’t willing

to go to bed with hairpins

so I’d get that perm

every month or so

I loved my hair for the first week

then a week of doing what I could

to keep the curl in

it was too much work

too much time checking in mirrors

I had a friend who was

what he referred to as a hair burner

he touched my freshly washed

uncurled hair one day

‘you have baby hair

I have clients

who would kill to have hair like that’

I said

‘I hate my hair

it’s too much work’

he said

‘do you trust me’

I let him do what he wanted

it took a couple of hours

that first time

to cut it short short short

then incise with electric razor

patterns into the hair

sometimes a maze

other times circle or triangles

always different

then he died

murdered by HIV meds

I shaved my head for his funeral

no one would ever touch my hair


catch me on stage: Tuesday – September 19 – feature – Art Bar Poetry series – 8 p.m., Free Times Cafe, #20 College At., Toronto – $5.00http://It’s No Accident

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

Art Bar Set Building

I was a bit surprised to be asked to feature at the Art Bar, more that they willing to let me decline the initial August date offered. Surprised because I stepped back from the reading circuit some time ago – mainly because I was tired of the pressure to sell drinks on behalf of a restaurant/bar that wasn’t even paying me to be there. Being a non-drinker I wasn’t bringing enough to the table to merit being there.

I have featured at the a previous incarnation of the Art Bar in 2009 when it was at Clinton’s but not since. I may still have my set list from that show. It was the one where @soulfistikato collaborated with me on a couple of pieces. Man that was such fun. If you read this @soulfistikato – let’s do it again.

I usually have my set ready a few weeks in advance of a show but this time I have nothing much planned yet, other than Arrgh Godzilla – which the universe told me to do with the death of Haruo Nakajima, the actor who occupied that suit for the first few Godzilla movies. The sort of sign I can’t deny. It’s a piece I love to perform so I may do another couple of pieces I love to perform.

But I want to focus on recent work, in particular the ones that have sprung from the 227 Rules for Monks that I have been using for prompts. Like the 48 Laws these have pushed me into thinking & writing about different things or looking at the same old things in a fresh way.


Some of the new ones might be those that I’ve posted here & have gotten good feedback about (if I received truly negative feedback I’d be even more inclined to perform them.) If anyone has any requests of pieces of mine they’d like to hear – let me know asap. So the set will probably be a mix of the very old, the more recent & some so fresh out of the oven they may be half-baked. Plus I have an amazing new shirt to debut.

Shroove Smelt

in the weeks leading up to Shroove

we village children would dress as smelt

and run through the streets

squeaking and calling for the adults

to come out to confess their sins

because it was due to those sins

that the smelt stocks were depleted

it was due to their disrespect for the scared pole

that the moose were in decline

the adult men would follow us children

moaning and beating their foreheads till they bled

we would lead them to the strip bars

to make the first of their confessions

where they wailed so loud

the loose saxes couldn’t be heard

as the women danced in the dark


on the final day of Shrove

we children would swarm up and down

the 10001 steps of the cathedral

forming dioramas from the Biblia Coochineal

to instruct the men in the ways of righteousness

the bishop would smash

a florescent lightbulb

once each diorama was complete

then we would quickly form the next one

till the story of the moose was told

till the men were longing to escape

the searing glare of our child eyes

they knew they were to blame

we boys dreaded becoming guilt ridden adults

we hoped to avoid the responsibilities

the village would assign us

when we were old enough

to shoulder the shame of being human


after the dioramas

we children would swarm the Whistling Woods

in random groups of four or five

to chase out the hungry hidden men

there was no avoiding the smart of guilt

we would find them

we would hound them

till they came barefooted

hair caked with moose blood

to the cathedral to present themselves to the bishop

to listen the choir

sing hymns of renunciation and accusation

‘vile adults in the eyes of the creator’

‘the moose has spoken’


the days after Shroove were ones of rest

we were all exhausted from the running

our smelt costumes were repaired

then stored carefully in airtight rubber bins

till next years

when the cycle of fertility and recrimination

would begin all over again


chapbooks for sale


HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

Tuesday – September 19 – feature – Art Bar Poetry series – 8 p.m., Free Times Cafe, #20 College At., Toronto – $5.00http://It’s No Accident

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

No Sale


Started a new set of prompts – I love lists of things – this one will prove to be endlessly productive for another couple of years – 227 Rules For Monks. Who knew the simple life could be so complex. These are from the 30 nissaggiyas. This is where 18 Not to accept money. took me.

No Sale

He wanted to buy me


did I like black magic

did I prefer kinder eggs

he want to buy me

a bottle wine

I told him

I don’t drink

I didn’t tell him

I don’t want him to buy me



it was too soon

we’d met once

this was the second time

and he wanted to buy me


to take me for a weekend in the country

I told him no thanks

I let him pay for a hot chocolate

he wanted to see me again

wanted to take me to dinner

I said no thank you

because I didn’t want him

not even as a friend

he was too demanding

in this need to please

besides he wasn’t my type

too tall too thin too smooth


I met him the first time

to step out of my comfort zone

he was sweet enough

we made out

it wasn’t unpleasant

until he flooded my inbox

asking to see me again

asking if he could buy me


so I saw him again

we made out

it wasn’t fun it was duty

there was no chemistry

other than his need to buy me


and that wasn’t enough for me

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

#this and #that




I was going to go with


but #this was too impersonal

too ambiguous

it wasn’t the fact of life that matters

but that my life in particular matters


what am I trying to do

co-opt a bigger   more important movement

coattail on the buzz

it has built

capitalize on their suffering & hard work

just to gain some pitiful attention


am I hoping to create controversy

with this spin

on an already over spun trend

with some snide spin of my own

because I think #myspinmatters

when its clear that it doesn’t

mean shit to a tree

I’m just another privileged guy

whose life

whose opinion

doesn’t matter

who doesn’t have a hope in hell

of stirring up anything

outside of his own little pond


so I guess

until I have something profound to say

and the money to back it up


My take on Law 39 was directly inspired by the use of # to create waves. It was a fast way to direct attention to important issues but then became more annoying than productive. People were responding more to the use of it than the actual issue. Some added the current # to posts that had nothing to do with the issue.

It was suggested, at one time, one add the most popular words or names to their posts simply to attract attention & get them listed in search engines.  Anything to get hits. The theory being the more hits the great the exposure – but it’s too easy to die of over-exposure or by # crying wolf. Even when my blog posts touch on certain hot topics I have resisted that # simply because I’m more interested in saying something than coat-tailing. When I first posted this piece I did not use the reference #BLM just to get attention.

It’s also a comment on the reactions to the use of ‘matters’ to suppress or diminish the importance of the issue – once again diverting attention from one thing with a defensive action that doesn’t address anything except an unwillingness to work for real change. It also became too easy to # than to take action anyway.


The use of # to stir up interest has now being too over used. I’ve did a recent check on # for the Texas floods & man the number of rabid anti-lgbtq sites using it to get attention for their political stance & not for anything to assist the victims is #disgusting.




Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

Tuesday – September 19 – feature – Art Bar Poetry series – 8 p.m., Free Times Cafe, #20 College At., Toronto – $5.00http://It’s No Accident

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

Lazarus Kiss.37

Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.

May you be embraced by a love beyond recall that alters others

and a love within recall that alters you.


Alex’s hands moved quickly all over Harris’s body. Touching his cock, balls, awkwardly washing his feet. He started on Harris’s ass and stopped.

“I can’t go there.” He spit water. “I thought I could but I can’t” He stepped out of the shower.

Harris followed.

“That’s okay.” He patted Alex’s shoulders dry. “It felt nicer than I expected. Reminded me of when I was a kid and having my dad wash me in the tub.”

“Yeah but …”

“We’ve gone far enough.” Harris handed him the towel.

“Could be, but this tells me otherwise.” Alex was erect.

“That’s not what I’m hearing though.” Harris wasn’t erect. “I don’ know what to tell you or what to do.” He continued to dry himself.

“Let’s lie on the bed. We don’t have to do much. Snuggle. Oh fuck! I hate that word. Snuggle. Linda always wanted a snuggle. Said it was the best part of making out.”

The bedroom was dark and cool. Alex pulled the shade down and made it darker.

“Okay.” Harris lay on the bed. He shut his eyes.

Alex stretched out next to him. Head propped on one arm. The other gently stroked Harris from shoulder to stomach as far as his pubes and back. He could feel the heat from Alex’s cock pressed against his hip.

“Your skin is pretty soft.” Alex said. “Not that I’ve touched many men but lots of women. Not as soft as a woman. But soft. Smooth too. Those guys in the porn were hairy everywhere except … ” He gave a little laugh.


“Their asses. They must have to get their asses waxed for porn.” He began to giggle.

Harris laughed too. “That’s way fucked. Where would go to get that done? Smooth Asses Are Us?”

He rolled to face Alex. Alex’s hard cock pressed against his stomach.

“What makes this strange is that I’m not like those guys. They aren’t as buff as you but I’m …. ”


“Let’s be honest, fat.”

“Feels fine to me.” Alex pulled them closer and rubbed his cock against Harris’s stomach. “Soft. Fat’s not hard ta get rid of ya know. I could help ya. Come to the gym.” His thrusting increased. Harris was pushed to his back with Alex straddling him. Their legs intertwined. His cock got hard again. He could feel it between Alex’s legs grinding against Alex’s balls.

Alex’s thrusts sped up. He was hugging harder. So hard it was hard for Harris to breathe.

“Ouch.” Pain shot through his ribs.


“I cracked my ribs a week ago.”

“How’s this.” Alex proped himself on his elbows to not be so heavy on Harris.


There faced each other. Harris closed his eyes as Alex continued to rub against him.  The weight of a man on him made Harris feel grounded, not aroused. Alex enjoyed this much more than he did.

“Oh God. Oh God.” Alex leaned up. “Pinch my nipples.”

Harris tired to get a grip on them but Alex was sweating too much. He had to use a thumbnail to get a good hold. Harris felt the tip of his cock touching Alex’s asshole.

“Yeah. Pinch’em harder.” His come spewed over Harris’s stomach and splashed his chin.

As Alex came Harris felt the asshole spasm with each ejaculation. If he pushed up half-an-inch he could enter Alex. But he didn’t want to. Alex gasped raggedly as he came again.

Alex fell off him. “Man oh man. That was something. I nearly blacked out. Can’t remember the last time that happened. Spooged you good.”

Harris got off the bed. He couldn’t wait to get out of there.

A timer went off in the living room.

“Shit I gotta get going.” Alex jump off the bed and wiped himself off with his polo shirt. He handed it to harris. “I hafta get to Story. Doin’ a split shift for Steve.”

Harris wiped the come off his belly with Alex’s shirt and got dressed.

“I’d walk to the subway with you but I don’t want to be late. Again.” Alex dragged a bike from between the houses. “That was certainly not what I expected but it was great.” He quickly kissed Harris and sped off.

Harris had never kissed anyone on their way to work. It felt okay. His nipples tingled as his tee-shirt rubbed them as he walked to the subway.

Home he could still feel the pressure, the shape of Alex’s cock on his belly, feel the spasm pucker of Alex’s asshole almost like a tight mouth inviting Harris dick to slide in.

He enjoyed what happened. No woman had showed him that much attention. Not that he could recall that many of them, thanks to the curse. That was the problem. If he could remember any of them he’d have an experience to compare Alex to.

Becky the other week was good. Fun and seemed to enjoy her time with him. Plus she remembered him the next day too even if she wasn’t that interested. Not at all. She made that very clear.

He got a call from his mother reminding him about brunch the next day and to tell him she had a special surprise for him so don’t be late.

10 o’clock on a Saturday night and he had nothing to do. Ordinarily he’d drop into Story to see if Trev was there for a few beers but he’d had enough of Alex for one night.

He tidied up his apartment. Tossed in a load of laundry. The instruction book for Andy was where he had left it on the kitchen counter.

Harris moved Andy out of his corner and opened the computer link for the voice ware.

“Play time.” he said.

Andy’s eyes opened. “Thank you for turning me on Harris.”

‘You can now program Andy to respond to other simple voice activations commands such as ‘pinch,’ ‘lift,’ ‘harder,’ ‘faster’ or ‘record’ without having to touch him to start these functions.’

Harris flipped to the section on record.

‘Andy is equipped with a fully function camera with 2.8-inch vari-angle PureColor system LCD, and RAW + JPEG image modes and 720p HD video with stereo sound to get crystal clear footage capabilities – can easily take still pictures or record scenes of up to twenty minutes in length. His eyes have follow focus lenses that allow him to discern and follow the action. The sockets will move within their limited radius. His neck is articulated to add more visual range.

To physically start the record function you need only touch him between the eyes.’

That’s what Becky did when she got him going. Was that why she thought he was looking at us when I was making out with her the other night.

‘For more on the wireless playback see the record module.’

Harris scrolled through the online function menu and opened the record module. Sure enough Andy had stored several recordings.

He hit the playback button. The first was of him and Becky on the couch as she rode him. The others were merely of him going in and out of the apartment.

He went back to the manual.

‘The motion sensitive setting is a default setting. Andy will automatically start recording which makes him the ideal security monitor for the nursery.’

Yeah and his dick the ideal pacifier.

‘Andy has many uses beyond merely being playful. We hope you enjoy discovering and utilizing all joy that he is capable of bringing into your life.’

Harris deleted the shots of him exiting the apartment. Next changed the default motion sensitive setting to off. That done he went back to the clip of him and Becky.

The picture quality was good, the sound was clear. Becky’s eagerness and energy aroused him. It was very disorienting though to see himself in a porn. The lighting wasn’t as good as the one that Alex had made him watch. It was dim enough that he didn’t have to see how fat he was either. If he did this again he’d have to remember the importance of lighting.

Becky making such a fuss over Andy then him worked on him the way Alex didn’t. So that’s what his cock looked like going into a chick’s mouth. It appeared larger on the screen than it did in his hand.

He jacked off in time to her rocking her hips on him as they inched to the edge of the couch. He felt again the penetration that position had given him. How big and fat her clenching cunt had made his cock feel. There were glimpses of her rising and settling where he could see his own cock as it when in and out of her. His legs quivered as he shot off on to his virtual stomach.

The recording ended about minute after they left couch.

Yeah that was a good time. It was as good as he remembered it too.

He downloaded the scene to his hard drive and cleared Andy’s memory.


Can’t wait to read the whole thing? order the PDF for $5.00 – – say you want Kiss




Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

This work is licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Ella Fitzgerald

Ella Fitzgerald! On an mp3 collection I have: Sings Gershwin; with Louis Armstrong; Rogers & Hart Songbooks. Plus a cassette of 30 by Benny Carter (so far unreleased in any other format). What can one say about this timeless singer. Adventurous and yet classic jazz at the same time. Her recordings with Louise Armstrong are amazing – their voice trade off so well – romantic, sexy & humorous. Their take on Porgy & Bess is wonderful.

She seems to have recorded non-stop, even her sleep, as she worked through song books of the great Broadway composers. Shows that she never would have been cast yet & she makes each song her own.

On this cd I’ve included work by her contemporaries: Rosemary Clooney: Ring Around Rosie with the Hi-Lows: this is an amazing set, the Hi-Lows’ arrangements are so campy at time I’m left breathless & one hears where groups like Manhattan Transfer got their best ideas. The song are energetic & fun. Her voice is clear as a bell.

Plus some Peggy Lee: Beauty & the Beat with George Shearing, Fever: a ‘hits’ collection. The Shearing is a live nightclub performance & listening to it one is right there sipping an extra dry martini. Fever is a selection of her 50’s work & leaves no doubt as to why she was revered. Very different from Fitzgerald or Clooney, she does some of the same songs but man, they are different songs in her hands.

Finally Duke Ellington’s Black, Brown & Beige featuring Mahalia Jackson. Two versions of it – the studio recording & a live take. Jackson has another of those monumental voices but she rarely sang ‘pop’, even her work here is more gospel & her reputation comes from her gospel recordings. A force of nature that draws even a cynic like me into the glory of the word.

A Mazed

‘How do like your room?’

‘It’s fine. Nice view of the Eldritch Enclosure.’

‘Ah yes. That north side is worth the extra steps.’

‘Extra steps?’

I hurried to keep up with Caliban. For a short guy he walked faster than my long legs could carry me.

‘Oh yeah. Didn’t you notice? That side of the dorm is about half a floor higher. Thanks to the Corner System.’

‘Oh great. Now I have to watch out for the corners’ too?’

‘Bright girl like you should have no trouble.’

‘Thanks. I guess.’

‘Sure. Well, here we are …’

We stopped at the edge of the Griswill Quad. Several students walked in large and small circles in front of us. I look at Caliban.

‘Maze meditations, Sycorax. There’s a new maze laid down in the grass every other week. Gives us a chance to focus and move. Very relaxing.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Oh no, you’re not. No one is sure till they’ve tried it.’

‘Can’t be any worse than the Celtiric Labyrinth at Black Rock.’

‘You’ve been there?’

‘Last summer. The folks thought it was time to see what latent ability I had.’

‘How long did it take you.’

‘Just under an hour.’ I wasn’t going to tell him it took me nearly twelve hours. Not yet.


He was as impressed as I knew he would be.

‘Then you’ll find this one child’s play. Start here.’


‘First day here everyone has to go through at least one of the five mazes. I’ll wait for you at the other side.’

I swallowed hard and looked at the gentle pattern in the folded grass. Once I stepped on to it I felt the slight breeze of the Form rustle my hair. The Form meant that I could not step back, step off, or step over. I would have to follow through to the end.

I moved ahead quick. I knew hesitation would change the pattern. As long as I kept turning to the left whenever I could I’d be fine. As long as I remember which way was left. Small curves in the grass spun me around and I found myself passing the start point more than once. I took a breath and stopped.

chapbooks for sale


Thursday – September 7 at 7:30 PM – 11 PM – HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

Tuesday – September 19 – feature – Art Bar Poetry series – 8 p.m., Free Times Cafe, #20 College At., Toronto – $5.00http://It’s No Accident

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

Tartuffe: The Dance Remix

A EuroDance remix of Francoise Hardy’s VIP filled the Festival Theatre as the house opened for seating. This was, in many ways, the perfect invitation to this production of Tartuffe. VIP an older French pop hit being remixed for a modern audience just as Ranjit Bolt’s translation remixed Molière for a modern audience.

After the rather bland attempt to add modern touches to the Changeling I was leery of the same happening again but this remix worked wonderfully. The modern set, the flourish of social media savvy by the characters gave us a production, a play that could have been written now.


The basic premise of one ordinary man’s blindness to the machinations of another is today’s news. To anyone who attempts to besmirch his idol our ordinary man even refuses to accept eye-witness accounts – these accounts are fake news by envious haters.

Graham Abbey, Tom Roone, Anusree Royby & Maev Beaty are excellent. Abby & Roone superlative at both physic comedy & tricky language play. Deadpan double-takes rule. Roone & Beaty attacked the ‘drumming’ for attention that leads to the big confrontation with a sense of actorly joy. In fact one could sense that all the cast enjoyed themselves.

The finale with the rapturous use of Trump memes brought the house down & to it’s feet for a sanding ovation when the show ended. Sets, costumes, lighting all at the very high Stratford level didn’t disappoint. But I have to compliment the consistent music choices that really created a sense of time & place. I don’t know who credit for that goes to director Chris Abraham, or sound designer Thomas Ryder Payne. I wish the program notes listed the pieces used. Smart choices for a smart production I recommend to anyone looking for a great contemporary comedy.

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

Little Town Flirt

On a recent Disability After Dark Andrew Gurza talks about flirting – which is a sexually loaded conversation that relies on innuendo as opposed to the direct ‘let’s get it on’. In gay male culture there is often no grey area in which one has to be furtive in finding out if the other person is sexually interested in you but sadly if that person isn’t sexually interested then there is no further interaction.


I realize this disconnect isn’t only in gay circles. I’ve meet too many straight male poets who find it impossible to interact with female poets they don’t find physically attractive & who can get very bitter when the female won’t come across after all the time they spent them helping to edit a piece of writing. Piece of writing has to lead to piece of ass. But I digress.
Flirting is so treacherous – it’s at the point where if one is nice it has to mean one in interested. I’ve pretty much stopped initiating conversations with strangers, gay or straight, male or female, outside of recovery lest my agreeableness be seen as coming on. If I come across as aloof or cold that’s better than being sued for sexual harassment.

I’m not one of those guy who feel entitled to pay strangers a compliment & except it to be reciprocated with anything more than a nod or even acknowledged. I’m always stunned by men who think some woman they never met before should be flattered when told how good looking they are & then be deserve to be thanked for their male gaze. But I digress again.

On line this is a different. At least on gay male hook up sites – one can say nice pics, or nice cock shot expecting it to lead somewhere. It’s not as much pick up line as opening the door. Of course guys who get rejected after that direct approach can get rather rude when turned down. It’s easy to first when you know the other party is in another hemisphere. I’m careful never to lead someone on or get overly reactive when there is no interest. Such is life.

In gay face-to-face situations I can carry a conversation but only get flirtatious if I mean it. But I’m at the age where men rarely flirt with me anyway. At Capturing Fire I have felt a bit of interest in me but have resisted fanning that flame with flirting. I’ve found that if I ignore it an cool itself down. It is a bit odd politically though – telling a trans you like them, but not in that way – is a challenge – but that’s a post for another week. Just because I say you look marvellous doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you.

The Amazing Sheridan LeFanFanoo


The Amazing Sheridan LeFanFanoo

came to our village

with his astounding magic act

he would read minds   lips   give ski tips

hypnotize people to yodel

as they skied down the slopes

in an Alpine Adventure

in single word his accent

would schloss from Swiss to Austrian

his little moustache would dance

along with the yodellers


under his spell you would yodel

or cockle-doodle-do or hiss

whatever he wanted you to do

then he would whisper something

only those under his power could hear

over the following days

villagers would stop in their tracks

to yodel or cluck or hiss


I snuck backstage

to catch a glimpse of

the Amazing Sheridan LeFanFanoo

I peeked between the trunks

that held his tricks

I saw him slap his pretty assistant

he called her a lazy bitch

she nodded and left him in the dim backstage light

he patted his forehead with a small handkerchief

then began to change into his next outfit

while his assistant yodelled on stage

I glimpsed his naked body

sparse black hair on his chest thin legs

at that moment his eyes caught mine

“who’s there” he asked fearfully

I scampered off


for the next few weeks we kids played

at being the Amazing Sheridan LeFanFanoo

boys and girls

with little mascara moustaches

tried to hypnotize one another

talked about the Whistling Wood

as if it was some exotic ski location

and trying out French German accents

at choir practice I tried my yodel

no one was impressed



while my mother

whacked the clothes clean on the rocks

I called her a lazy bitch

she gave me a tired smile and hissed

“you sound just like your father”

chapbooks for sale


Thursday – September 7 at 7:30 PM – 11 PM – HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

Tuesday – September 19 – feature – Art Bar Poetry series – 8 p.m., Free Times Cafe, #20 College At., Toronto – $5.00http://It’s No Accident

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s – sweet,eh?

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr