STRANGE BROTHERS

STRANGE BROTHERS

Bruce Nugent
Toni Morrison
Robert Mapplethorpe
Wallace Thurman
Carl Van Vechten
James Baldwin
Ishmael Reed
William Faulkner
_________________

First and Last Salon
—for Bruce Nugent

“I aint got no
African spirit…”
—Paul Arbian
Infants of Spring

And so that was that—
So much for poets back then
In the Gay Twenties.

It was short & sweet—
The great Harlem Renaissance
End of the salon.

Jizz
—for Toni Morrison

Yeah, I know that kid—
He ran with a bunch of gay
Chicken on Lennox.

His sugar-daddy—
Did the down-low with the kid
A spooky, sad love.

The kid shot the Fag—
‘Cause the guy was tricking with
Another hustler.

At the funeral—
He cut the guy’s dick off and
Ran outta the joint.

Mandingo

—for Robert Mapplethorpe

He knows he’s bad stuff—
The kid knows he’s sad stuff too.
He’s okay with it.

He be dinge hoodlum—
The kind that robs gay white guyz
He’s superb at it.

He’s a cute black guy—
White guyz want to suck it
He’s got twelve inches.

The kid shrugs, so what—
Crazy about the City
It keeps him going.

Niggeratti Manor
—for Wallace Thurmond

“It was Raymond’s
last night in
Niggeratti Manor.”
—for Wallace Thurmond
Infants of the Spring

“Fire” & “Harlem” were—
Flaming comets up above
The Harlem skyline.

The Niggeratti—
Weren’t ready for Gay Lit Crit
Or Dinge Poetry.

Wallace Thurman—
Grows disillusioned & writes
Dark satires instead.

Infants of Spring—
His Mann-esque “Magic Mountain”
Satire of Harlem.

All the characters—
Of Niggeratti Manor
His cipher boyfriends.

Harlem Renaissance
—for Carl Van Vechten

“The final stanza
in his drama of
beautiful gestures”
—Wallace Thurman
Infants of the Spring

They found me there in—
The Niggeratti Manor bathtub
So much for Harlem.

Depression was next—
The Renaissance was over
Dinge no longer Vogue.

The Thirties crept in—
The Literati crept out
Plus all the money…

Notes for a Murder Novel
—for James Baldwin

”I’m writing a novel
in your presence”
—James Baldwin
Notes for a
Hypothetical Novel

Quickly I’ll sketch it—
Halting, shadowy, faggy
Uganda novel.

A murder story—
About David Kato in
A quick nut-shell.

I’m not pretending—
To be straight & unbiased
Just American…

I really can’t say—
Too much about Africa
They killed Kato, right?

They beat his brains in—
With a fucking hammer there
In his own home, right?

Let’s pretend a book—
A murder novel like the
Way I grew up.

Let’s pretend it’s not—
A novel after all but
Instead REAL life.

You know, impromptu—
Right now in the gay moment
Faggy ad lib NOW?

There are some people—
Who live their whole lives this way
Dizzy, scatterbrained.

Without “Principle”—
Marriage, childbirth, divorce
All those sorts of things.

I know a country—
Nothing but incoherent
People coast to coast.

And I’m one of them—
My incoherence is such
That I can’t write prose.

I can’t write it down—
I can only live it out
David Kato’s death.

I have this image—
From a not-so-old photo
A hanging black man.

I have this image—
Kato struggling on the floor
His brains smashed in.

They don’t show it all—
In the African papers
So much for novels.

Hoodoo Voodoo Lover
—for Ishmael Reed

“cocksucker”
—Ishmael Reed to Baldwin
Interview with Quincy Troupe

Voodoo love be bad—
Especially Hoodoo-
Voodoo homo love.

Whitey douchebags want—
Everyday proof that hoodoo-
Voodoo really be.

All I can say is that—
I do the Voodoo down-low
In the Big Easy.

Mandingo love be—
A cute mulatto love-child
Teenage Darby Jones.

I do him at night—
There in the cane-field crossroads
So Jacques Tourneauesque.

I be Voodoo queen—
In “I Walked with a Zombie” (1943)
I suck-off the Dead.

Charles Bon the Beautiful
—for William Faulkner

I be Charles Bon—
I be Charles Bon the Beautiful
I be a Sutpen.

The Deep South’s my home—
I’m a Delta Bourbon Planter
Mississippi’s mine.

My Dinge Dynasty rules—
From Pascagoula all the
Way up to Memphis.

Henry’s my homeboy—
Judith’s my wife & sister
We have hot Three-Ways…

Offed the Old Colonel—
After Shiloh & then we
Got down to business.

I turned this goddamned—
Postage-stamp Tallahatchie
Plantation into…

My own Paradise—
One big Yoknapatawpha
Dinge Queen Dynasty!!!

So get on your knees—
And Go Down on My Moses
I be Voodoo Queen!!!