Flashing GE flashbulb photographing beautiful boys,
my mind’s parade of young and beautiful men.
Not boys, not men, menboys.
Boys when I was a boy, teens when I was a teen.
At 70—enchantment: young menboys.
20-something young man. 20-something adoration, 20-something beacon flights fanciful.
Color Boys of almond velvet skin, black flashing eyes. Men of Latino café au lait chocolate. Menboys simple as metaphor. Men dark as night, stars for eyes. Boys skin pale as moonbeams, hair spun gold silk.
Slight of build, graceful, effeminate, unsure, shy, short, graceful, slightly swaying hips, fluttering hands, boys who almost pass for girls.
Poet captures feelings: desire, not to own.
Worship, adore as Magi adored.
Look, admire, wistfully gaze, let go.
Hope Diamond–flashing brilliant youth flushing exuberance.
I flush adoration, admire sexlessly.
Stare longly rudely–caught an adulating thief.
Don’t dwell on rose gardens lit with palest moonlight.
Sonatas of angelic visions heraldic with celestial choirs.
Glens laden with dewy grasses.
When I was a boy I adored another boy—we thought boy’s thoughts.
Handsome John Thornburgh owned a horse Cloud, he was noble.
The photos of memory exist: 1956.
Memories dragged out, previewed with love.
Don’t question enchantment.
Don’t question heartbeat and breath.
It simply is–they simply are.
The Muse Eros challenges beautiful creatures to catch my eye, storm my imagination.
Fleeting moments when I behold a sunset.
Tears when Butterfly dies.
Admiration of young men meant to rule my world.
I grow old, they grow older.
Heart’s mind they will be forever young.
Ships pass in the night, another comes along in its wake.
Innocent charms pasted lastingly in my heart.
So wrong to think wrongly.
Exaltation, beauty is found.
Hollywood silver-screen-era glamour: look not touch, dream don’t possess.
If you don’t have this feeling, you probably don’t understand a word.