PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

So, Uncle Walt, is this to be the way to complete the final constellation

of poems---to stand where you once stood (under the live oak and its moss)

and pronounce, declare, and bring into form the words of celebration,

giving unto them as opportunity or necessity direct, a starward gloss.

And no more to submit to the rather misinformed avoidance----

because of the imposition of societal expectation---

of the truth of my nature that may, here, be called the buoyance,

and to look with joy that is really a glee into your pages,

and others', that bear witness to the love that naked bodies best express,

and to raise this up, in my own words, to its own glory and no less

than that to offer in these poems, regardless of haters' prejudiced rages.

Let my words, Uncle Walt, gather unto the edge of that freshwater sea,

which is both timeless and timely, beyond calendars and clocks.

On that shore is the pristine sand, the most finely pulverized rocks;

here the Beloved approaches---long-haired, shirtless and shoeless (his feet

delightedly bare or sheathed in flawless, semi-sheer socks).

Here he may walk, and frolic, without concession to the conceit

of this world that shall not accrue and accrete

any more in these lines.  Here, will become to us Love's completeness

when, at the peak of his most intimate pleasure, the Beloved releases his sweetness,

glistening, iridescent, confected in his core---the sign of achieved initiation.

J-Called