---

I was a Rogue ‘98

About this time
I really began
to make something
of my life.

For a year I lived
a gay and glorious life
in some of the freest
society in London.

the critic

and what was the last poetry book that you read?
what was it called?

Didn't think so.

your opinion means nothing to me.
so please refrain from commenting any further.
just fuck off and continue to rot in your own bitterness
everything spilling from your mouth is gall

I hate you.

Ancient Love

Give to Caesar what is his
Nicomedes first - a manly kiss
for love is love and nothing else
Hetero-garb on a dusty shelf
Pindar is my muse tonight - I see him well
like Beardsley and Tom
Love is strong
While a whiff of scandal lingers, furlong.

I dare to believe you, foolish I know
The curtain is falling on the men of the world.

Go.

Leas

Yellow street-lamps flood the skies. The salty air
floats by, tempting my nostrils. Skank and death.

a barking dog
I’m out of breath

It's the lightest midnight I've ever seen. Default blue
Across the ocean, it glows. Like a blank TV screen –
Giving everything, revealing nothing.

Spectres in the mist, following
Perhaps there’s nothing there
Nothing at all

A parked car – inside they shuffle and moan. No shame

I walk on by
Kicking a pebble. Giving a stare

Like I care.

Room Number One

This is the room
Where it was done
This is the room
He had his fun.

I was a child
He was not
I was a child
The door was locked.