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Ad patres el prostitute (Free verse) by <{Baba^Yaga}>

At the back door of a church on Sunday. In an alley off of St. Andrews, again. Beating off the cold stink he is waiting. For father to find him a hot viand & coat. Wait son, do not yet close thy eyes. Silently, he eats with both hands faster then it takes the priest to swallow along with him. The staticy air gets more tolerable as both decide to loosen up the other's collar Wait son, do not yet close thy eyes. Underneath a full moon, but still dusking. He notices that brother and sister are sharing the same sky. Just as the fire drowns down into a dark blue expanse of rippless heart-ache. Wait son, do not yet close thy eyes. Hungry again, but too exhausted to search any further then the edge of a playground. Near the beach and his Father's Mission Bells sing to him, tonight he shall have sleep. Now son, you may close your own eyes.

dmzoacan 24-Feb-03/8:50 PM
My point here is that I believe the poem would be more effective if it didn't try to bridge the gap between male whore experience and average experience by assuming that the reader can find some common ground to relate to. I feel that this search cheapens and weakens the poem. If the reader were unable to find common ground he or she would begin to comprehend the feeling that someone who has no common ground with anyone else feels, ie what a male prostitute dying alone in an indifferent world feels. My point here is that the sense of tragedy is lessened by the unimaginative delivery. All this poem does is say that some guy is dying under unfortunate circumstances and that he's sad. Big fucking deal I say. If the sole intent here is to make the reader feel sorry for this person, it wouldn't be much of a poem, even if it did manage to do that.

It's a fine poem, it just seems that if h8 feels so strongly about this, maybe he should do something interesting instead of something not too many tiers above your garden variety whiney girl poetry. The fact that it is about a male whore dying alone doesn't really distinguish it from those my girlfriend left me type things so universally scorned.




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