ON THE WARM CLIFF SIDE / EL MONTAÑISTA

On the warm cliff side,

between dimpled curves of stone,

stiff fragrant curls of fern

prickle my skin.  As I climb,

Earth tilts like a ponderous wheel

rolling me out over space,

and the emptiness reels.

Clinging, I solder myself

and soar, and sail.

What follows is a version in Spanish:

EL MONTAÑISTA

En el costado cálido del risco,

entre las curvas suaves de la piedra,

espirales fragantes de helechos

erizan mi piel.

Rueda la noria gigantesca de la Tierra,

arrastrándome al borde del abismo . . .

y el vacío gira.

Aferrado, me sueldo al promontorio vivo

que se remonta y vuela conmigo . . .

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aom2. blogspot .com, 10 Jan 2012

BEFORE I CONFESS

This poem was written for and about an acquaintance who contracted HIV.

Will you love me, even though
I'm someone you don't quite know?

Will you give me understanding
When I'm unfair and demanding?

Will you love me in spite of
The childish fear behind my love?

Will you love and want me still
When I'm old and poor . . . or ill?

Wait--will you love me if I say
. . . What I may not . . . or I may . . .

Will you love me anyway?
_

FEVER

When an angel or a god descends,

you don’t ask why.

You don’t question stormwinds,

thunder, lightning.

 

My knees buckled when I saw him.

My mouth and throat went dry,

a fever scorched my skin.

 

I wanted to hide.

 

I wanted to see and be seen.

 

I asked him where he lived—

he cursed and knocked me down.

 

When I came to, he was gone.

 

In this encounter, who lost?  Who won?

He got the thrill of action, macho—

But I bear deep in every vein

a hidden flame, the fire of Michelangelo.

 

 

http: //media.au.timeout .com/contentFiles/image/melbourne/events/gaylesbian/stereo-lovers.jpg.