The video of “Not Your Daddy” is now available to view on YouTube! It is a poem that is very dear to me – about a special relationship. Directed by the talented Fred Gebhardt, this is a beautiful film. It is also my first poetry video.
Be sure to SUBSCRIBE to my channel to learn first of new releases as they come out!
My first feature poetry video is in the final editing stages! “Not Your Daddy” is about an intergenerational relationship between two gay men – and how defining it through role play would reduce the power of that connection. Directed by the talented Fred Gebhardt, it features evocative San Francisco footage. The video is now in the final editing stages – be sure to SUBSCRIBE so you can be the first to learn of its world premier!!!
I met Fred at Café Flore recently, so he could show me the video so far. All I can say is – – It’s GORGEOUS!! Lush imagery of San Francisco provides the perfect complement to this love poem. There is a short teaser trailer so you can have a taste – but please be sure to SUBSCRIBE (if I can get 100 subscribers, I can make a custom YouTube URL).
For the Man from Whom I Bought Art
Castro and 18th, 1/28/17
Your cardboard sign with Sharpie letters reads:
Not really a bad person –
just in a bad situation.
Trying to change and make it better.
You ask me to pay
what I think your painting is worth –
how could I possibly measure
the weight of your struggle, the worth of your effort to rise,
the way your hand caressed the cardboard found from behind Safeway
into an image that instantly resonates,
and conjures hope, given the times we live in.
I made it less than a block before doubling back
to ask your story, to see your work displayed on the sidewalk:
pen and ink psychedelia, Pink Floyd screaming faces, exaggerated caricatures
studies of hands, of faces.
Your work reminds me of Aislinn’s pen and ink, I tell him –
she’s my oldest friend in the world, I have a folder of her ephemera.
You smile, that someone’s hands produce similar visions.
You say the Castro is wild tonight, lots of crazies
I wonder how your quiet spirit found way to seek solace among
those looking to get drunk, or laid.
Does anyone get you?
You won’t make eye contact.
I smile at you anyway, just in case you can feel it.
At no point is a person ever really
so in need of stitching that they are
a Frankenstein quilt, spilling batting from
the loose seems of reality
though there is a time, perhaps
when one’s damage
exceeds the ability to repair
we are only so equipped, depending on our emotional means,
and sometimes we reach that line
living in the remote woods, smoking the dope we make
the dope that doesn’t sell at least
avoiding window reflections, old photographs, those that
it highlights too much the changeover we can’t face
while not facing
life from when before it changed.
None of us are really bad people, and none of us
are the situations we find ourselves in.
All we are, really, is how we resolve our own stories,
and how we seek to change.
Your painting hangs on my wall.