Lonely Christopher reads at the Bureau of General Services—Queer Division
I’m in awe of many poets, and with that being said, I have to say I’m especially in awe of Lonely Christopher. “How does he have the time to do everything he does?” Writer, curator, critic, publisher, editor and director, husband too, and he has to have a job to pay the bills. “The problem with money is that it isn’t real, but we love to have myths ruin our lives,” he says in “American Studies.” Wealth is doing what you want. If I could simply read as many books as Lonely does, it would be Utopia enough.
I came out in a cold heavy blowing rain early last March to hear him read at the Bureau of General Services—Queer Division, and I’m glad I did. In the Vimeo below, he reads eight poems from two of his books, Death & Disaster Series and Double Rainbow. Enjoy.
The five short poems I’ve typed out that follow were not read in the Vimeo. These poems, from Death & Disaster Series, were written during the time of the poet’s mother’s death, when he was young and allowed himself to write without edition whatever was coming out.
Duty
We used to be better put together and one day it might be that way again. Turn around inside of a bleak room pasteurize everything, and here I thought you loved me. Really, what I was doing was pulling a swan into controversial abstinence. Begrudge me my duty while I prepare to talk about what I have to say.
Restraint
Find a new way to fuck off right out of this plight. Steal out to weep in the circle of dirt in the backyard where the pool used to be.
Discovery
I have no idea if you will find these words but now I want you to.
Acceptance
If I can’t bring my voice up toward a tacit god, if beauty can’t be wrought from experience, then it is not worth it; it is a gilt limb smooching and refusing the word. There is a continuum with two poles, blank confession and blank language, and strung hidden between is the truth.
Happy Birthday
Miles out of the way, I came upon a short woman who, on my birthday, was already weeping. She blocked the path and didn’t care, she put her miniature hand upon my chest, looked up then, with damning gaze, said she: “You are in tremendous pain, I mean physical pain and you have no idea where it is coming from and you have no idea how to make it stop.”
Death and Disaster Series is published by Roof Books. You can check it out here:
