Loving Men-Masterpiece

aadenimHis body is bathed
in cotton; it breathes
through denim
and leather;
blinders for my eyes.

Hands reach
for ivory buttons,
closures against the wind;
fingers dance
on the ivory like a pianist
sliding the ivory through
tight holes.

Unbuttoned, I open the sides
of his shirt unmasking
his chest which now teases
me like a joke;
his chest, taut, firm with a spattering
of hair like paint splashes;
his chest hair moves
as my fingers dance
on his wooded prairie.

Hands move to his snap
and zipper which when tugged
growl as teeth are barred;
teeth which held his
briefs at bay like a police
line: do not cross
it says.

aadenim1I pull away cotton
and denim to expose
flesh upon which my
hands feel hunger
and longing and yearning.

Naked now, I study the frame
and not the painting of cloth
and denim; the frame of flesh
is what I study with devouring
eyes.

Next will be my mouth
and tongue tasting this
masterpiece.

Loving Men-Having It

When you look for It you’ll never find It.

There are many things that I’ve looked for in my life: Success, fame, love, etc. Some of these I’ve achieved but alas, they are all fleeting. They slip through my fingers like sand or oil.

I’ve learned that looking for these things, especially It, is a futile endeavor. These things are assigned or given by others.

Rodrigo and I have It; I know you know what It is. It’s not love alone. It is comfort, security, compassion, trust, courage, and humility. We discovered it naturally, slowly, through an ongoing friendship.

We’ve talked about Having It when we suddenly realized we had It. It was a surprise when we finally realized that our friendship had finally evolved into It.

When I stopped looking for It, It appeared.

So maybe, just maybe, if we stop looking for It, or success or fame, and maybe these things will be given or discovered from another.

Discovering that Rodrigo and I have It gives to me a feeling of comfort. I hope that everyone has the beauty of discovering It with someone.

Loving Men-Love

aaWe don’t always know what we’ll find.

I fled to Paris and then to Charlotte because I didn’t know what else to do. I was manic and unmedicated and reeling from the expedited divorce from my husband of 32 years.

I’ve spent a fair amount of time trying to make sense of what happened, like an investigator picking through scraps of a crime scene.  But since my ex-spouse refuses to speak to me, it’s impossible for me to interrogate him, thus leaving me with a gaping hole where reason is usually found.

When I came to Charlotte, I found a gay community that was practically impossible to infiltrate. There were men that said, emphatically, that they yearned for a lover or relationship, but when presented with one, ran for the brambles! Man after man after man.

And when I did snare one, the relationship only lasted three or four weeks.

But not with Rodrigo.

Rodrigo and I bumped into each other on the internet. Neither of us were looking for anything except friendship, and so friendship is what we pursued. And friendship is what we’ve discovered. And it’s also become the foundation of our relationship.

Yes, we’ve become more than friends, but it’s in our friendship where we find our love.

I’m Yours

When do we hand ourselves over to another?

His thigh
is strong
beneath
his jeans.
Warm, it
moves,
an eel
in a cave
of denim.
Hands reach
for eels, holding
them, squeezing
them, capturing.

Hands atopayours
eels, you quietly
whispered
I’m yours
I’m yours
he whispered.

When do two
lovers meld
into one lover?
When do we
moan, “I’m yours”?
When do we
adopt ours
abandoning
I me mine his
and his?

I’m yours
he whispered
to me, me
with my eyes
holding
his eyes, our
hands holding
our hands.

I’m yours
he whispered
meaning
we’re ours.

 

Loving Men-Rodrigo (Concave/vex)

A man’s body is simply concave/vex.

gaykiss1When I watch Rodrigo slip out of his undershirt nightly, I see a pair of wide shoulders become bare. These shoulders are capped by a beanie of muscle. Muscle he uses daily to lift, to haul, or, nightly to push and pull.

They are convex.

When I watch Rodrigo watching me, I see his eyes. Magnificently brown and almond-shaped.

They are convex.

At night, under the sheet from our bed I feel his buttocks. Flexing and relaxing they are simply muscle.

They are concave.

In the twilight and glistening with goose-flesh, I see Rodrigo’s face. His lips: a pair of smiles. His hollowed and haloed cheeks.

They are concave.

Men’s bodies are elegant and simple geometrical shapes.

Loving Men-Aliases

Who among us have never longed to be someone else.

I’m often asked, “Are all the men you write about real or fantasy?”

They are all real. Each and everyone.

It’s their names which are fantasy.

rodrigoman2They’re all aliases. Each and every one including Otter, Pup, D., Luciano, Jean-Baptiste, Sao Paulo, Isaiah, Corey, Calhoun, Mark, Michael IV, Micheal VII, Jeffrey, and yes, Rodrigo.

I write about how they’ve moved me, how they’ve touched me; I’ve writtenrodrigo2 about what they’ve said and how they shared it with me; I’ve described flanks, and torso’s, and buttocks, and faces, and waffling and pancaking (Rodrigo and I waffle).

I’ve learned that keeping my life secret was difficult for me, since I couplewrite a blog on the internet. But keeping the identity of lovers sacrosanct was something I hadn’t bothered to worry about. Who wouldn’t want to read about themselves on the internet?

All of them didn’t.

They understood and continue to understand that as a writer I will write about what inspires me, and what inspires me are them, the lovers in my life. But what they didn’t wish to share was themselves.

You see, how I see them and how the world would see them are different.

I write about them in ways that I see them; through my eyes; not through theirs. I point out things and feelings and places that they might never see.

An alias is more than a name.

An alias can be about an entire experience.