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          I

No refuge in words, 

it's the poetry of a man, 

a single specimen, before me, 

at my touch, my hand, 

his ass, his thigh, his sigh, 

his every nook and hair and cranny 

before me in the immediate now, 

an elixir I need if not daily 

at least regularly on my tongue, 

in my arms, in my legs, 

in my gut good enough to last 

a few hours, a few days, 

desire eats me alive reminding 

me I am alive and this is 

the best time to be touching, 

close as words to the melody, 

ravenously. I am ravenous 

to the depths of a pit cartoon-deep 

and painful to my essence, my gall stones, 

my piss and toenails know my need 

unrealized and rotting in a brain abcess, 

melancholy tallow-thick as in the depths of city sewers 

awash in constant shit paste. 


          II 

(omitted) 


          III 

distracted by desire, 

can't eat, be in public too many beautiful 

men, concentrate, sleep 

alone another night knowing 

the beauty of a man must be 

celebrated soon, 

I need to worship 

at the holy place of a man's body. 

Copyright 2006 by Greg Baysans

https://members.tripod.com/~poetx/poems/refu.html