August 2011 The Poet’s Corner Taken With Permission from “The Literary Party: Growing up Gay and Amish” STR8
In this time and at this rate, The world prefers its assassins str8. Heroes for heteros to relate, Comfort for their grieving mate.
In this time and in their bed, Every queer is left for dead. Heroes for heteros are always fed, Our hungry eyes are always red.
In this time and in their shame, Shadows eclipse our vigil flame. Graffiti obscures our spat upon name, Our bodies are bashed, beaten, lame.
In another time and in future age, Of pink revolution and lavender rage. Heroes for heteros will stumble and fall,
And we shall feast on bones and all.
This month’s poems in “The Poet’s Corner” were taken from “The Literary Party: Growing up Gay and Amish in America.” The book is a collection of poetry by James Schwartz.
What comes to mind when you think about the Amish? For most people, the popular im- agery is a horse and buggy, farmhouses with no electricity, funny hats, and bowl haircuts. None of these stereotypes, however, have in- cluded the word “gay.”
Mr. Schwartz is a Michigan native who grew up gay in an Old Order Amish community. His book blends poetry and short stories to nar- rate an upbringing of controversy, pain, and ultimately celebration.
The September issue will have more about “The Literary Party” as well as about Mr. Schwartz.
“The Litearay Party” is published by inGroup Press, a LGBT publishing company. More information about “The Liteary Party” can be obtained by e-mailing JP Souza at JP@in- GroupPress.com.
PUZZLES
Holy! Hark hatred from ordained voice, Homophobia is an ornate choice. Chance encounters in the V.I.P. pew, Sunday exile is nothing new.
Superiority in str8 sexuality, Queers bashed sating pack mentality. No desire in my sleepless night, But for the mere minutes before flight.
In every nation hate holds sway, Charmed in a waltz of the cobra’s ballet. Hate is a serpent spawned by men, Only slain by the poet’s pen.
Leave the ruins. Love awaits, Open your mind, close the gates. Free your foes. Remove your muzzle. We are all a piece in the puzzle.
Eight
