Quentin as Closet Case

Young William Faulkner

Quentin as Closet-Case

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“Shreve might not be

in Quentin’s pants, but

he’s surely in his head,

a far more terrifying

place for him to be.”

—Noel Polk, “How Shreve

Gets in to Quentin’s Pants,”

Faulkner and Welty and

The Southern Literary Talent

Poor Quentin

Dalton Ames knows it—

And so does Shreve McCannon

They know Quentin’s queer.

They know him better—

More than Quentin knows himself

Mississippi queen.

All of Harvard knows—

Quentin be a closet case

Yes, Quentin be gay.

Quentin falls in love—

With young butch Shreve Mccannon

Same with Dalton Ames.

Jealous of Caddy—

He goes down on Dalton Ames

On the bridge back then.

He’s seen them make love—

Caddy toes pointing straight up

Dalton’s toes straight down.

Even Benjy knows—

Quentin be a real slut now

Just like Caddy is…

On the Bridge

Quentin closet case—

Tries so hard not to be queer

But he can’t help it.

Dalton is all male—

Quentin and Caddy want him

They have the same lips.

Ames lets him have it—

Calls him “Caddy” when he cums

Quentin swoons away.

The Modernist way—

Long streams of consciousness

Dream-like, disjointed.

Alluding to sex—

Homoerotic love play

All in italics…

He isn’t thinking—

Quentin as a source of sex

It was Caddy’s lips.

He looks thru Quentin—

Like thru a piece of stained glass

Why meddle with names?

June Second 1910

“I was I am not”—

Mississippi or Harvard

I’m dead bones down here.

I jump off the bridge—

It’s not the Tallahatchie

It’s Charles River.

Where the boyz are nude—

Skinny-dipping having fun

They invite Quentin.

So easy to be—

“Blind immortal boy” again

In person this time.

I fucked it up tho—

Confused by little sister

My secret urges.

Beating of hot blood—

Young handsome well-hung Dalton

Going all the way.

Making me swallow it—

Dalton’s untethered huge hog

Down Hades abyss.

The River

I could smell the curves—

the river beyond the dusk

last light supine down.

The tranquil tideflats—

Beyond lights the clear pale sky

Dalton’s trembling dick.

Refuge in his pubes—

Conflict temporarily

Silenced by cuming.

Sudden sharp tart taste—

Salty as tears his snotty

Brothel between his legs.

Deep I Memphis trance—

Naked in Miss Reba’s place

Dalton subdues me.

Cuming into my—

Oh Jesus Christ he’s so hot!!!

No wonder I’m queer!!!

The aching rain—

Between silences inside me

Dalton flowing deep.

Shreve at Harvard

I can still taste him—

Invisible blood flowing

My cute young Greek vase.

Past my hot lean lips—

Staining my swan-throat with his

Young thick Moses Rod.

The long warm fingers—

Leaving me breathing hard there

The whispering dorm.

I need Shreve bad—

Like I needed Dalton Ames

Love those Harvard squirts.

Shuddering so hard—

Shreve thinks I’m gonna die

I’ve tried many times.

Somewhere I heard it—

Mississippi drumming down

In my beating heart.

Monologues

Like Jason I keep—

Retuning to the scene of

Incestuous crime.

Going down on Ames—

Dalton’s girlfriends know the truth

Legs around his neck.

The Rod of Aaron—

The seed of young Abraham

Jacob’s cute angel.

My long monologue—

Hovers like moths before flames

And then retreating.

It’s colloquial—

Roots in spoken dialects

Oral intercourse.

When I lose control—

Sex, syntax, all of language

Goes out the window.

Faulkner keeps it up—

Typing away late at night

Rowan Oaks whiskey…

Trying Not to Say

“Faulkner though achieves

the effect f cinematic

montage…juxtaposition

significant episodes…

intimately intertwined”

—Noel Polk,

Children of the Dark House

Benjy tries to say—

But cant while his brothers try

Not to say what’s there.

Jason keeps talking—

He can’t help himself talking

He over-controls…

Quentin is desperate—

He shapes his syntax, grammar

Toward closetry.

Both Dalton Ames and—

Shreve McCannon his husband

Penultimate pricks.

Humiliation—

Imagined conversations

Talking with father.

Episodes control—

Ironic self-reflexive

Gay witty wordplay.

Mélange of denial—

Negatives, mordant syntax

Saddest boy of all…

Spoade

Every closet-case—

Has a Spoade lurking in there

Only too ready…

Squealing the secret—

Shreve be Quentin’s young husband

He loves to bottom.

It’s a train of thought—

Going back to Jefferson

Queer Quentin the fag.

His conversations—

Discomforted by closet

Homoerotics…

Shreve shrugs it all off—

So what if he’s not fucking

Cute sluts like we do?

Spoade a terrapin—

In a street full of Harvard

Dead desperate leaves.

Quentin unravels—

Séances with Dalton Ames

Dangerous bridges.

Benjy’s bleak golf course—

Full of lost golf balls eve

Benjy’s testicles.

Quentin desperate—

Not wanting to put in words

Unmentionables…

Henry Sutpen

Seancing the past—

Channeling the Sutpen voice

Letting it speak now.

Quentin & Henry—

Easily becoming what

Déjà vu can do.

Coached & abetted—

By shreve’s constant questioning

Dialog begins…

Sutpen’s design seems—

To overwhelm narrative

Queering Bon as dinge.

But Henry goes down—

In the Old Miss dorm at night

Surely knows Bon’s dinge?

Why not let Judith—

Get to know Mandingo love

And breed more young Bon’s?

Quentin like Henry—

Young Deep South closet case

Sees into the Past.

Harvard

Quentin hates Harvard—

His Deep South dinge queenery

Doesn’t come off good.

Back to Jefferson—

Jason scowling in the wings

Benjy castrated.

Caddy got married—

Her husband queer for Quentin

His Compson goodlooks.

What was there to go—

Back to in Mississippi?

Homophobia?

His father’s death and—

Mother’s crying all the time

Jason ditching it all.

Harvard taught you how—

To jump off a bridge into

A river’s cool death.

No wonder Quentin—

Simply jumped off the bridge

He hated the South…