Poem about two gay cowboys tumblr
A nearly-forgotten anniversary took me by surprise yesterday: 5 years since the debut of my first full-length book of poetry, Going Speedy in Loose Directions.
A fun, mostly-naughty romp of dirty queer sex poems (as requested by the publisher,) Going Rapid in Loose Instructions was the manifestation of 3 years of writing and workshopping (in universal view) sex positive queer poetry on my former Tumblr, Original Content Required. OCR, as my friends and I called it, focused on queer male sexuality in the 2010s: dating and sex in the digital age, the impact of social media, what was lust beyond physical space, and featured poetry and fiction, visual poems, collaborations, response work (numerous pieces that “collaborated” with the art of John MacConnell, with whom I later did formally organized original creations.) OCR was a blast. Time consuming, but great entertaining. I caused me to become enthusiastic about writing again, introduced me to a lot of interesting artists, photographers and writers, reminded me of how to be disciplined with creative work.
The book wouldn’t acquire come to be without the blog, where Jared Rourke of the once and formerly wonderful small press Gay You
Not a day goes by where Im not thinking about these two poems
like come ONN.
#cowpokeprose#cowboy poetry#cowboy#cowboys#maybecowboycore
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Forgive me fellow cowboys,
For not creature born of male,
But born of the cursed sex.
When I am under the stars,
Alone in the prairie,
There,
There is no sex.
And us boys are free:
To drown in creeks,
And to climb mountains,
And to run through the trees,
Like we’re supposed to.
-J.W.
#cowboy#poetry#cowboy poetry#yeehaw#gay cowboys#transgender#transmasc#trans ftm#trans cowboy#original poem#short poem#poem
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Collage of my Hometown(s) from my possess photographs
Home from university this weekend, and grappling with the inevitable future of my grad season this coming June. It's bittersweet, but regardless of my college career, the notion of moving back residence for an indefinite time is opposing. I have a lot of mixed emotions regarding my hometown, where on one hand it's the land that raised me, while the other hand there's a stagnation that comes with the area. It's a beautiful region with hidden pockets and secrets, but finding my grounding and community among
GAYLETTER
Early on in Ben Kline’s newest poetry collection, Going Fast in Loose Directions, a poem titled ‘A Minor Lament‘ opens with the following deceptively simple lines: “He unseated good sense. / The best lovers often do.” The declaration is purposefully economical, shortened to a mere nine words in order to pronounce in the simplest of terms to experiences of love and loss, desire and mania, sex and loneliness. Kline is adept at this trick of economy; none of the eighty poems that make up Going Quick in Loose Directions surpass two pages, and yet not a single one lacks for sentimental depth or shrewd observation. Accept the numbered sequences that recur under the titles ‘Propositions‘ and ‘Men I Know.’ Depicting terse sexual advances in haiku develop and ended relationships in free verse respectively, the numbered poems feel like interludes: sometimes steamy, sometimes heartbreaking, but always loaded with infinite possibility for what comes next.
It’s that sense of giddy unpredictability that makes Going Swiftly in Loose Directions, Kline’s first full collection to be published by Johnny Murdoc’s erotica micro-pub Quee the devote between the ocean and the moon if that's too vague? <3 i always love your writing and you are always so great. <3 The satellite asked the sun, “What do you know of love?” “It burns,” said the sun. “It brightens. It is something you make and then provide away.” “Don’t listen to him,” said the clouds. “This big ball of gas doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” “Yes, I do,” said the sun. “Who but me makes the roses grow?” “We do,” said the clouds. “Love nourishes, like the rain. We turn the hills grassy and fill the creeks so they will carol in their creekbeds.” “Why do you ask?” said the sun. “I ponder I might be in love,” said the lunar. “I am trying to understand.” So the moon went and looked at the deserts. They were dehydrate and hot and unfilled. “See?” said the clouds. But the deserts were still beautiful. And so the moon went and looked at the creeks in their beds, and they were cool and wet and full. And they were beautiful too. “What do you think?” the moon asked the sky. “I want to know if I am in love.” “Ask the earth,” said the sky, and so the rock asked the earth. “The clouds cover me,” said the earth. “They construct me bloom. The daystar
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