HOW TO BE A FAG

—for David Halperin

Let the fags fuck—

And the Christians burn

Just because you think you’re Str8t—

Doesn’t mean you’re Hetero-normative

Fags learn how to be Fags, my dear

From other Fags not Str8ts, honey

Fags tell us what we think we know—

Whether we’re Bubble heads or not

What is the role of Faggotly, dearest

When it comes to this gay identity? 

Well, just ask Bette in Baby Jane—

About those rats down in the cellar

Hollywood Babylon has done more

To pervert Fags than anything else

Grande operas and gay musicals—

An well as campy Diva worship

Drag, muscle culture as well as

Style, Fashion and Interior Design

Well, anyway, I may be a Faggot—

And not a Hetero-normative Hunk

But at least I’ve gone beyond the

Dreary deary Mildred Pierce routine

IN COLD BLOOD

—Richard Avedon's contact sheets 
from 1960 photo session 
http://hollywood-elsewhere.com/2005/12/millers_crossin.php 

1

There’s always been—
I suppose a certain hoodlum
Element to the American West

The Dick Hickock types—
Robbing, killing, hanging
Around the Western scene

Where else could young—
Prison con-artists go but
“Go West, youngman!”

Avedon’s portraits capture—
With amazing accuracy
These American West killers

Richard Avedon, Portraits
Portfolio: Dick Hickock 

2

Cocky Dick Hickock—
His name oozes with
American West violence

He possesses that—
Sullen young hoodlum
Insolent male beauty

A lop-sided face—
Victim of a car accident
His twisted goodlooks

One eye so gimpy—
It both breaks your
Heart and scares you

Richard Avedon, Portraits
Portfolio: Dick Hickock 

3

These other shots—
Most people don’t get to
See them very often

Or maybe they don’t—
Want to see the look in
Dick Hickock’s eyes

Dick takes along his—
Hired gun killer lover
Perry Smith the Gimp

All the way out to—
Holcomb KS to rob the
Wealthy Clutter family

Richard Avedon, Portraits
Portfolio: Dick Hickock 

4

Prison life turns—
A man’s sex life into
A twisted tattoo thing

Dick is str8t and—
Like the young stuff
While Perry likes Dick

They end up broke—
Down in Mexico on the
Run after the murders

They get nabbed in—
Las Vegas in a hot car
Truman is waiting

Richard Avedon, Portraits
Portfolio: Dick Hickock 

5

To Kill a Mockingbird—
Was a lot easier to write than 
Capote’s In Cold Blood


Harper Lee’s novel was a—
Great success story leaving
Truman green with jealousy

Taking the Super Chief west—
Spending long cold nights
In a Garden City motel

Gradually the form of his—
Nonfiction novel took shape
Twisted, gnarled love story

Richard Avedon, Portraits
Portfolio: Dick Hickock 

6

Perry Smith slowly became—
Truman’s kept man there
Behind those prison bars

Like two lost brothers—
Suddenly discovering each
Other for the very first time

Capote greased the palms—
To get into Perry’s dingy
Prison suite to make love

The nonfiction element in—
The novel In Cold Blood was
The killer’s pouty sweet lips

Richard Avedon, Portraits
Portfolio: Dick Hickock 

7

They say that when—
You drop you don’t
Feel a fucking thing

But it took 30 minutes—
For their hearts to stop
Beating, strangling them

They also say that when—
Your neck snaps hard in
The Hangman’s tight noose

That a guy shoots his—
Last extra-long spastic
Wad all the way Dead

Mad Queens in the Attic

The Mad Queens in the Attic

It didn’t take long for—

The Mad Queens in the Attic to

Come swishing down the stairs

Like the Portrait of Dorian Gray—

They’d been cooped upstairs for

Much too long, my dears

But unlike Oscar Wilde’s double—

The new Mad Queens in the Attic

Weren’t tres bashful one little bit

Like Miss Bronte's Wuthering Heights

Girls & the Jane Eyre Madwomen, the 

New Mad Queens liked to flaunt it

They didn’t hide themselves—

Behind a curtain upstairs forever

But instead descended the staircase

Would Dorian Gray’s visage have—

Been so bold as to flaunt herself like

These raving Mad Queens in the Attic?

Now Oxford Press comes out with—

The Mad Queens in the Attic exposé

So shockingly homo transgressive!!!

Queer Theory literary critics are—

Lining up to guzzle Sassafras Tea

And trash this latest QT effrontery

Mildred Pierce

MILDRED PIERCE

Ann Bylth
Zachary Scott
Lana Turner
Joan Crawford

Ann Bylth

“Veda, I think I’m really seeing

you for the first time in my life,

and you’re cheap and horrible.”

—Joan Crawford in

“Mildred Pierce” (1945)

I ended up, of course—

In a mildewing version

Of Mildred Pierce

Playing a tres bitchy—

Spoiled-rotten slutty

Little tramp like Veda

Putting the make on—

My Mother’s handsome

Slinky second husband

I was such a whore—

Betraying my lovely

Joan Crawford mother

She couldn’t believe it—

When she found me

Sucking off Zachary Scott

Zachary Scott

Once you’ve seen one—

You’ve seen them all

The male gigolo types

Zachary Scott playing—

Monte Beragon getting

Just what he deserved

For calling me just a—

Rotten little tramp

When he was one too

Mommy Dearest—

Played such a simply

Divine Blanche after

I pushed her down—

The stairs in her nice

Little old wheelchair

Lana Turner

One thing’s for sure—

Both Joan Crawford and

Lana Turner were alike

They both had rotten—

Daughters just like me

It was such a shame

Sandra Dee tricked—

With John Gavin in

“Imitation of Life”

Just like mulatto—

Slutty Susan Kohner

Betrayed Juanita Moore

I was no different—

Just a rotten little tramp

Like the other girls

Joan Crawford

Queer Theory Queens—

Are trashing & dishing

Me behind my back

They’re saying I’m—

Either outmoded or

The epitome of camp

I used to be a Diva—

In movies like Whatever

Happened to Baby Jane.

Bette Davis and me—

We were the Queen Bees

Of Hollywood Babylon!!!

Even tho trashy imitators—

Like Faye Dunaway try to

Mime Mommy Dearest

LETTERS BACK HOME

Letter to Amy Jane

Letter to Two Lesbians

Letter to Anita B. Rice

Letter to Wood Bloxom

Letter to Loretta Langley

Letter to Ed Price

Letter to Richard Doxtator

Letter to Tom Jaggard

Letter to Larry Ballard

Letter to Theresa

Letter to Connie

Letter to Amy Jane

I remember back then—

When some Olpe kid broke

My poor faggy lonely heart

Mommy Dearest would—

Console me with stories

About her cute boyfriends

Getting out her 1942—

Emporia High Re-Echo

Yearbook & telling me stories

About Bloxom, Price and—

Anita B. Rice as well as all

Her cute past boyfriends

Two marriages later—

She was still looking for

Some kind of Happiness…

Letter to Two Lesbians

My favorite teachers like—

Miss Hillerman who taught

Art at Lowther Junior High

Vina living with her lover—

Miss Mildred Kaff who was

My math teacher back then

Both ladies made such a—

Lovely lesbian couple who

Indeed loved each other

They were kind to me—

Like Elsie Pine and many

Other Emporia teachers

They’re the real ones—

Who made the Athens of

The Midwest possible…

Letter to Anita B. Rice

I was simply terrified—

By your sharp pointy

Tear-drop edged Glasses

The way you’d glare—

At me each time I dared

To raise my nelly hand

Trying to answer one—

Of your boring American

History questions for you

Only for you to dish—

“I’m simply appalled

Miss Kelly by your nerve!”

“You should think twice—

Before opening your stupid

Lame-brained Mouth!!!”

Letter to Wood Bloxom

If insults and denigration—

As well as abject racial and

Sexist discrimination ever

Ruled the roost it had to—

Be Wood Bloxom’s eternally

Dreary degrading ugly Mouth

“Somewhere in Kansas”—

He’d opine and complain each

Day looking down at us…

“The sun is shining but—

Not here in nit-wit dumb

Stupid little idiotic Emporia!”

He hated Hispanics and—

Female National Merit

Scholarship Winners…

Letter to Loretta Langley

I had gentle Mr. Stanton—

Teaching me Typing which was

So very important to me

It was the only thing—

In the whole high school

Curriculum that mattered

Typing was the gateway—

To becoming a nelly poet

Doing what I do today

I was so lucky not to have—

That witch Loretta Langley

Rap my knuckles with a ruler

For cruising the goodlooking—

Guys in class instead of doing

My speed typing appropriately

Letter to Ed Price

Your classroom was uniquely—

The only one with laboratories

And tiered seats for lectures

You taught physics & chemistry—

Just like you’d done when my

Mother was there in the ‘40s

You gave lectures standing—

There in class while clacking

Your false teeth up and down

Bored with the same old—

Lectures about this and that

Over those long decades

Mother and I smiled—

Some things just didn’t seem

To change over the decades

Letter to Richard Doxtator

You were new to the racket—

Teaching English hadn’t become

The same old drag each year

You were fresh from KSTC—

And still learning how to write

English like we were doing

Such a complex chemistry—

Both teaching and learning how

To swim in the Sea of Language

An exciting Proposition for us—

The ones interested in writing and

Reading new novels and writers

One time you even got up and—

Walked across our old-fashioned

Desks to wake us Readers up!!!

Letter to Tom Jaggard

When I read Allen Ginsberg’s—

Poem “Howl” in a beat-up City Lights

Paperback edition from 1956:

“I saw the best minds of my—

generation destroyed by madness,

starving hysterical naked…”

I thought of brilliant depressed—

Tommy Jaggard who was living

On the edge there in Emporia

More than just nonconformist—

Living in his basement bedroom

With all his parent’s antiques

His father hated him and his—

Mother didn’t know what to do

And I was maybe his only friend

He tried really hard to fit in—

Went to Reed, joined the Air Force

Even was a mail delivery man

He got married but nothing—

Really seemed to work for him

Despite his incredibly smart IQ 

He ended up in a bathtub—

Slitting both his wrists to bleed

To death, such a terrible waste

Letter to Larry Ballard

Another one that died young—

A National Scholarship Merit winner

Born for MIT it seemed

But he was never that interested—

In physics, mathematics, chemistry

And the whole post-Sputnik craze

David Penny was his MIT roommate—

But Larry didn’t want to be one of

Those Born-Again Christians either

So he came back to KU in Lawrence—

With his own interests in anthropology

And science-fiction dystopias

But he ended up in a missile silo—

Then on a secret mission to Turkey

Got blown outta the sky to smithereens

Letter to Theresa

Yes, I know, sweetheart—

But I hated that shitty awful

Little Cowtown worse than you did

The way people were always—

Walking up to John and saying

Snotty “I’ve got YOUR Number!”

Then there was, of course—

Faggy fey Jimmy Stevens who

Was the fruitcake Cheerleader

Who got away with murder—

Being swishy and all fem with

Those pom-poms & pirouettes

Especially at Basketball games—

The auditorium all sweaty with

Screamy hysterical Mobs

Letter to Connie

No wonder you took—

Miss Howard’s Spanish class

For three years in a row

And there I thought I was—

The only Hispanic queen bee

In that naughty little town

I was desperately in love—

With sexy muscular Arnoldo on

The EHS Wrestling Team…

I loved it when he pinned me—

On the mats in the YMCA gym

And made me scream for more

Then later in the steamy—

Showers of the YMCA when he

Stuck a bar of soap up my ass!!!

SANTA FE ROMANCE

Santa Fe Train Station

Emporia’s Little Mexico

La Colonia Trailer Court

Las Casitas Park

Santa Fe Train Station

I’d pick Lopez up at—

The Santa Fe Railroad

Station late at night

He had a day job—

In Kansas City and

Commuted each day

We’d have a late—

Dinner at Blaylock’s

Café quietly together

Then I’d take him—

Home south of the tracks

Down on South Street

He lived alone in a—

Dumpy little trailer

In “Little Mexico”

Emporia’s Little Mexico

Emporia had this dirty—

Little secret that it

Kept all to itself

It had its very own—

Hidden little Mexican

Ghetto there in town

From the 1920’s—

Santa Fe imported and

Hired Mexican laborers

To work the tracks—

The Wheel House and

All the different shops

Cheap housing—

For their big families

No questions asked

La Colonia Trailer Court

They called it Little Mexico—

But the older Hispanics back

Then called it La Colonia

Some stayed when the—

Great Depression came

Doing odd jobs & gardening

Manuel lived alone in—

A Streamlite Travel Trailer

I’d stay overnight with him

He had a crucifix there—

Hanging on the bare wall

Above his ratty little bed

He stared at it at night—

When I was in bed with

Him, sucking him off

Las Casitas Park

There’s a park there—

Now where the ghetto

Used to be hidden 

Over the years—

Las Casitas Park has served

As the main location for Fiestas

For car shows, quinceneras—

And basketball tournaments

For meetings and birthday parties

Reunions and rehearsals—

For various Mexican dance groups

Arriba!!! Come rain or shine!!!

Not to mention everyday use—

As a playground for the youth

With its basketball court

Perverse Prairie Poetry

FFA Boyz

Animal Husbandry

Horsy Young Ranchers

Chase County

Vocational Ed

Gothic Americana

Stoic Tricks

Being Natural

Afterwards

FFA Boys

Back in high school—

I found the FFA boyz

To be extremely sexy

So much more macho—

Than the pretend-butchy

Types in letter jackets

Instead of wearing those—

Garish leather red & black

Flashy jock jackets

Showing off their prowess—

As football, basketball stars

The usual muy macho

The FFA boyz were much—

More sedate with corduroy

Blue Eisenhower jackets

Animal Husbandry

Whether or not they—

Were goodlooking didn’t

Make any difference

Even the less handsome—

Primitive-looking guys

Were a real turn-on

They didn’t pretend—

They simply were

Themselves that’s all

Maybe it was their—

Pointy cowboy boots &

Cocky Stetson hats?

Maybe their tight—

Bluejeans all snug and

Comfy with their cocks?

Horsy Young Ranchers

Word got around that—

I was interested in

Horse-breeding stuff

Naturally they knew—

All about it and showed

Me how it was done

I blushed so red—

The first time I saw

A stallion go to town

I got weak in the knees—

He laughed and took me

For a ride on the Range

The Z Bar Ranch kid—

“Can you make a racehorse

Run?” he asked me…

Chase County

After that I gave up—

On jocks after school

The wrestling team ho-hum

How many times did—

I lose my virginity in

Chevy pickups at night?

Strong City became—

Awfully strong-tasting

My horsy hunting grounds

The smell of leather—

The Tall Grass Prairie

The Cenozoic chill

Out there late at night—

Under the starry heavens

Chase County Romance…

Vocational Ed

They hung around—

The Vocational Ed Bldg

Across the street

They were already—

Mechanics with engines

And farm equipment

Cars especially and—

Tuning up pickup trucks

Doing oil changes

Practical stuff—

Young farmers and

Rancher Know-How’s

I was just a novice—

But I was a pretty good

Fast study at things

Perverse Prairie Poetry

I began to lose interest in—

Doxtator opining literature

With Mrs Jaquith & Sullivan

Novels and science fiction—

Just didn’t do the trick anymore

After doing the FFA boyz

I was seriously into—

Hardcore Midwestern realism

And Gothic Americana

The FFA boyz reminding me—

Of stark Grant Woods portraits

& Edward Hopper architecture

I accepted the depressing—

Film noir prairie landscape

Wanting to know more…

Stoic Tricks

It was serious business—

Doing business with those

FFA boyz, lanky ranchers

Sometimes a lonely one—

Spotted at the Lyon Country

Fair so awfully alone

The harder they fought it—

Holding it back as long as

They could, looking away

Those were the kind of guys—

Who lost it all the way

So awfully heartbreakingly

I felt sorry for them—

The way some of them almost

Fainted, it was so intense

Being Natural

Naturally they got—

Used to it but still

Always holding it back

Almost as if they—

Had to struggle to

Not lose their Manhood

But when they did—

It was like getting your

Lips on a Shotgun…

A double-barrel shot—

In the dark in a Chevy

Or Ford pickup truck

The look on their faces—

When they saw me get

Every fucking runny squirt

Afterwards

I wish I could say—

I grew out of it but

That’s just a lie

Some went to work—

For Santa Fe after our

Graduation back then

Some stuck with—

Ranching out there & the

Cattlemen’s Association

Emporia had always—

Been a major shipping

And beef operation

Family farming and—

Ranching continued…

They all got married