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boyer

Stephen Boyer
Two Poems

In my past lives I must have met everybody
for Kevin Killian and Dodie Bellamy

gazing into my crystal ball, Angel Ariel
searching for my past lives
she hasn’t been forthcoming with answers
soooo I logged onto facebook and took a quiz
which stated, “In your past life you were Marylin Monroe. In this life you continue to be radiant, happy,
whimsical, and daring…”
wandering around Strand Bookstore in a miniskirt flirting with staff
yes I’ll have sex for money
I thought for sure I had been a renegade 1960’s visionary gay pornstar
or Frank O’Hara or Sylvia Plath sans husband
but Ariel keeps suggesting my interpretations are self involved
that I was a girl, then a boy that died alone of AIDs
he didn’t even know what he had contracted
nor time to care about the silver screen
soooo far from everyone that raised him
they loved him before he left to New York City to be the next diamond
drinking and fucking on the docks
men crashing through the ramshackle ceilings
men fucking on top of the corpses
the train ride from Missouri to New York his first and last
another boy on the train had the same revelation
soooo they shared bunks and took a shower together
wherein the conductor caught them and demanded they pay him extra cash which the boys didn’t have
soooo they offered their souls and pleaded their way



Dear Marissa Nadler it’s Brooklyn

Dear Marissa Nadler we’re at your show in Brooklyn and I’m sitting in the chair you were in before the
show began you hugged a boy and drank beers as your audience filed past the image fraught with tenderness
your music is pleasant and I often fuck men with your record spinning in the background I like listening to
sad starry eyed females singing while engaging in homosexual liaisons usually I play the submissive have
you ever downloaded me and fantasized my mouth a hole for stuffing inanimate objects into other witches
have and I’ve opened myself to them my mirrors I’m in love with a girl I use girl figuratively as an
expression of soul she is a singer too I never listen to her when I engage in prostitution I listen to you and
light candles ethereal reality it’s beautiful it’s white magick sometimes a girl has to separate herself from
the corporal world to remain my hymen appreciates that bitch likes to gab do you need to be ravaged in
order to feel whole I am obsessed with sorrow and I do believe pain is the center of the universe I engage in
masochism because I am the universe and so are you so please keep singing with each note and word I am
able to better understand who I am forget about meaningless noises I’m always hungry for life both raw and
perfect the most important aspect of a canvas is the color and the textures an artist chooses to create your
voice is imageless when audibly digested one must unravel a stark complex fragile noise ooh ooh lonesome
me

     
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