Nijinski
Gaston Godin
______________________
Queer Quilty
Vivian Darkbloom
Donny Haze
Donny Dazed
Gaston Godin
Interior Décor
Death in Naples
___________________
Queer Quilty
Quilty was much—
More queer than just
A three dollar bill
He had so many—
Avatars that it made
My asshole hurt
He had a lot in—
Common like being size
And chicken queens
That’s why we fought—
Over Donny Haze’s body
So much of the time
Vivian Darkbloom
The usual Dominatrix—
With her black leather
Swank stylish fashions
Her whips & chains—
Her provocative sneer
And sharp little teeth
Her wicked dildo—
Set to Vibrato Stun
Just like a Taser gun
She was precognitive—
A new trick she says:
Mind if I sample him?
Donny Haze
I was so very proud—
Of myself, I’d stolen the
Honey of his Spasm
No harm done at all—
To the morals of a minor
He pretended to sleep
He’d poured, squirted—
Honey, molasses, foaming
Champagne out of him
His bulging, wrinkled—
Soft, tender scrotum so
Absolutely drained dry
Donny Dazed
How ignoble & sinful—
Getting him so loaded
On booze, weed, coke
Look, he’s still so—
High he’s floating in bed
No will, no life of his own
I’m simply transmogrified—
By what I’ve created the
Boy who’s now a grown man
I adore him so awfully—
Horribly feeling him up after
His transmigration into dick
Gaston Godin
Both Gaston and I—
Shared our own secrets from
The burghers of Beardsley
Gaston knew & I knew—
That we both knew things
About each other
Curious, burlesque things—
That none of the other polite
Beardsleyans knew, my dear
It simplified things—
And made our friendship
Much more relaxed
Interior Décor
The neighborhood boys—
Did burlesque downstairs
In Gaston’s garret basement
An orientally furnished den—
Carpets on the walls that
Camouflaged hot-water pipes
He stuffed them to the gills—
With fancy chocolates filled
With fine real liqueurs inside
Andre Gide, Tchaïkovsky—
Nijinsky all thighs, fig leaves
Cavorting obscenely downstairs
Death in Naples
Gaston was like me—
Devoid of any talent
Whatsoever, a true loser
A mediocre teacher—
A worthless scholar and
A glum repulsive old queer
The neighbors liked him—
All the young boys loved him
He was fooling everybody
He was somber and sad—
Full of stoic world-weariness
A bachelor in Beardsley
Queer Quilty
Vivian Darkbloom
Donny Haze
Donny Dazed
Gaston Godin
Interior Décor
Death in Naples
___________________
Queer Quilty
Quilty was much—
More queer than just
A three dollar bill
He had so many—
Avatars that it made
My asshole hurt
He had a lot in—
Common like being size
And chicken queens
That’s why we fought—
Over Donny Haze’s body
So much of the time
Vivian Darkbloom
The usual Dominatrix—
With her black leather
Swank stylish fashions
Her whips & chains—
Her provocative sneer
And sharp little teeth
Her wicked dildo—
Set to Vibrato Stun
Just like a Taser gun
She was precognitive—
A new trick she says:
Mind if I sample him?
Donny Haze
I was so very proud—
Of myself, I’d stolen the
Honey of his Spasm
No harm done at all—
To the morals of a minor
He pretended to sleep
He’d poured, squirted—
Honey, molasses, foaming
Champagne out of him
His bulging, wrinkled—
Soft, tender scrotum so
Absolutely drained dry
Donny Dazed
How ignoble & sinful—
Getting him so loaded
On booze, weed, coke
Look, he’s still so—
High he’s floating in bed
No will, no life of his own
I’m simply transmogrified—
By what I’ve created the
Boy who’s now a grown man
I adore him so awfully—
Horribly feeling him up after
His transmigration into dick
Gaston Godin
Both Gaston and I—
Shared our own secrets from
The burghers of Beardsley
Gaston knew & I knew—
That we both knew things
About each other
Curious, burlesque things—
That none of the other polite
Beardsleyans knew, my dear
It simplified things—
And made our friendship
Much more relaxed
Interior Décor
The neighborhood boys—
Did burlesque downstairs
In Gaston’s garret basement
An orientally furnished den—
Carpets on the walls that
Camouflaged hot-water pipes
He stuffed them to the gills—
With fancy chocolates filled
With fine real liqueurs inside
Andre Gide, Tchaïkovsky—
Nijinsky all thighs, fig leaves
Cavorting obscenely downstairs
Death in Naples
Gaston was like me—
Devoid of any talent
Whatsoever, a true loser
A mediocre teacher—
A worthless scholar and
A glum repulsive old queer
The neighbors liked him—
All the young boys loved him
He was fooling everybody
He was somber and sad—
Full of stoic world-weariness
A bachelor in Beardsley
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