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Refuge
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
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