"There's a flip side to everything," the saying goes, and in 2 minutes, Derek Sivers shows this is true in a few ways you might not expect."

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EFFIE MAY’S CONFESSION ( Read more... )

LIBBY’S KISS ( Read more... )

It was a sweaty day-

hurray for sunshine

and drenched bodies.

Beneath the wet white shirt,

every muscle speaks

the gospel, every ounce

of fat sings.  The lies

are uncovered

that outerwear screens.

The falsehood of coats,

the lying scarf and hat

are put well away.

On that sweaty day,

I uncovered

that I was gay.  Poolside,

fathers, sons, brothers,

( Read more... )

SUMMERS WITH DANNY AND SUSAN

They appeared each June-libation just before I turned to dust,

two little towhead saviors peering over the station wagon dash

like prairie dogs.  Now I think I may have made them up, the aqua

days of pools and riding in Mrs. Winterbottom’s mower cart,

through the streets of our new complex, waving like parade ( Read more... )

The Supreme Court has ruled that corporations can contribute unlimited amounts to political campaigns. Dangerous ruling for anyone who isn't a corporation and a misuse of the 1st amendment guaranteeing free speech to the people--not business entities. FreeSpeechforPeople.org

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WHAT LINGERS WHEN LIPS PART

After tongue touches tongue, I stagger
backward from the jolt. A spark,
from two juiced wires brushed together,
lights the dark where cobweb belayed bruts
ache to pop their corks.

I try to sober, but trickle quicker
down the treasure trail,
the shortest passage to your tap.
I binge in the cleft of your cellar,
three sheets ( Read more... )

A SENSE OF MISPLACE

Rural Kentucky plus gay equals
ache of never feeling planted

when all around you
are rows and rows

of tobacco rooted
so deep it can’t be pulled.

I couldn’t tap
this soil for pabulum

or grip the clods
that others held tight.

I never conjured
the magic of plunging

gnarled fingers
into this hard clay.

I was the anti-farmer,
the odd non-member ( Read more... )

WHILE AT FRISCH’S FOR A TUNA MELT

The servers skitter about the tables
while ladies with leaning towers of hair

led by men with wishbone legs
dodder to the salad bar, hang their canes

around their wrist while dishing out some cole slaw.
My waitress tells the table next to me

that she has cancer,
must have a length of her esophagus removed.

Somehow, this ( Read more... )