“from Jubilate Neoleo (Harry, his cat)” by Larry Jones

I’m a runaway from Commack, Long Island,
left home when I’d turned only two and
that same spring had a truly torrid fling

with a pandemonious she-panther from the
surly wrong side of the alley, soon thereafter
landing in a trap for vagrant, feral cats,

very much like the one I’d recently become.
Turns out that at my would-be mother-in-law’s
beckoning, I moved in on her daughter whose

cop boyfriend shortly went completely postal on me.
Next, not unlike last term’s mayor of New York City,
I move on, in on a Brooklynese gay business associate.  

Oh no, nothing like “Harry and Larry” becoming
sexually/romantically involved, again like
the last term’s mayor my narrowly having

just escaped/survived the extremely bitter end
to just such a disunion and my being just subsequent
to some very shall we say “challenging” surgery.  

Our roomie, Damian the Russian/Argentine refugee
artist, and I…

View original post 226 more words


About streeteditions

Poet,queer,perverse verse,sex,drugs,rock'n'roll, dirty old man
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s