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@ 27.055 MHz: Ad Astra; Elegy For Antinous, Addressed To The Emperor Hadrian
Sometimes, the sadness comes on a great wave;
often it flows through you in subtle ripples.
And how it hurts---no matter how they say
it should subside. Tenacious is this sorrow
and makes today the same as yesterday:
and as dismal, and sepulchral and gray
(a pall and cerements) will be tomorrow.
Travel from west to east, and north to south,
yet no escape can be found, no retreat.
You miss his lively presence, and you crave
his beauty---the Stars'Watch within his eyes,
his hair (all those soft curls) and that shy smile;
the playfulness of his erected nipples;
his slender, agile, and always bare feet;
and his firm Lofter, ready to rise,
always responsive to the slightest touch;
the way his flesh tensed at ejaculation
(no inhibition and no hesitation,
intruding): his profuse, glistening sweetness
released upon you, or into your mouth
to bring the intimacy to completeness.
But, more than that, his personality,
his gentle candor and plain honesty
(lacking in all conceit, unmoved by guile)
gave him a sustenant vivacity.
A poem like this is just a brief notation;
an amateur surmise, a glancing gloss
that never can measure how very much
you miss him, nor the huge depth of your loss.
J-Called
