Closet-Case Countee Cullen

Closet-Case Countee Cullen _____________________________________________ Perplexed Countee Cullen—reluctant closet-case during the Harlem Renaissance—shunning the Niggeratti Manor crowd—the scandalous New Negro Intelligentsia—Thurmond, Nugent the flaming Fire queens—you see, Cullen was Afro-Uranian—in love with the calm, knowing Greeks—across the sea the desire of Southern men with Northern pent-up passions—seeking the young male vigor & purity of Mediterranean ephebes—posing there on Taromina—for postcards by the ancient Roman ruins—yearning for the tenderness of Socrates & Athenian youth—but what about further south—was there such a thing as Afro-Uranian passion more along the lines of Congolese boyz—young Mandingo love? This is what happened to Countee Cullen—exposure as a high school teacher is the last thing he wanted—caught up in the double-homophobic closet of not only being a gay Negro—with all the internalized self-hatred & Harlem black homophobia then—he saw what happened to FIRE and Infants of the Spring—Cullen didn’t want to be a Van Vechten Poster Boy—what good did it do back then—being a dinge pedophile—and so he quietly turned inward—dressing in an elegant 3-piece suit—cool, aloof teacher of French & safe things—nothing to do with The Copper Sun anymore—Afro-Uranian Poetry folding back—into the Harlem Renaissance Closet—so that it takes a gay clairvoyant séance Ouija Board—to speak from the Dinge Dead—Afro-Futurism simply had to wait for him—the struggle between his Congo Id & Whitey Ego—simply too much for even his New Negro Muse—so that the Board speaks to me—The Copper Sun open on my desk—the pages turn by themselves—and I hear the dead poet speak to me—translating into another New Negro idiom—not only the forbidden love that dares not speak its name—but more along the lines of a Colored Calamus style—a youthful Harlem-esque Pausianian Love—even more forbidden than Smoke, Lilies and Jade—a Black Greek Anthology of swift, inexcusable, passionate, adolescent black pride—coy Countee Cullen toiling, feasting, ignoring the Harlem Renaissance—Benvenuto Cellini & Michelangelo kept on the bookshelves & walls—while Countee touched & handled the real thing—behind closed, locked doors, of course—black Strato in the woodpile—Lord Alfred Douglas locked safely in the closet—the chicken dinge love that knows no shame—Copper Sun sunset—Midnight moon comes to Harlem—Mandingo chicken long lanky legs—wrapped tight around Countee Cullen’s neck—strangling Hadrian in his temple bed for hours…