Tag Archives: Gay Poetry

Steven Cordova Poet- LONG DISTANCE


poetry by Steven Cordova

In LONG DISTANCE, the fourth title in the Canto Cosas series, Steven Cordova vividly portrays the life of a young gay man living in New York … in this case, a man who has tested positive for HIV.  The poet discovers a current of ironic humor in his subject, an important step in the evolution of AIDS poetry because it dissolves the figurative ghetto around the subject and integrates it into a general human condition in which persons of many backgrounds come to terms with a wide range of problems, some of them life-threatening.  LANG DISTANCE is the poet’s first book-length collection.

“LONG DISTANCE is a finely crafted collection of poems, and a gorgeous and fearless debut of a book.”- Lambda Literary

72 pp   paper   $10.00  ISBN978-1-931010-62-7

Bilingual Review Press

Phone orders  Toll free:  (866)965-3867

E-mail: brp@asu.edu


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Curt Stubbs Gay Poet- WEDDING BELL BLUES


by Curt Stubbs

The pulpit grows organically
before the fruited, flowered alter
as I stand with my boyfriend’s heart
in my hand and the King James Bible
swearing full commitment to a man
somewhere near here and now
I pledge my troth in complete and full
ring upon his finger touching the sky
wherein dwells our God feeling
our love and caressing my soon
to be married ass clad in tuxedo
pants complete with bright red
comberbun and he’s dressed so handsome
his tux matching mine in
and color me blind

by love possessed and let no man
put us asunder in a fine church like this
where the pulpit grows organically
out of my league and into the stratosphere
where boys toy rockets red glare
lights up the heir apparent
watching over a child’s crib
and adoption right

to be free according to our natures
before God and Country-
man loving man like
Romeo and Juliet without
the tragic ending in false conclusions
like those four eyed moths who confuse
predators into thinking
they are right about our nuptials
and our lives in the balance
of natural occurrences

Curt Stubbs
3880 N. Park Avenue
Tucson, Arizona

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Curt Stubbs Gay Poet- PRONOUNS: A LOVE STORY


by Curt Stubbs

He was
sleeping so intently that he
didn’t hear the fire alarm.

He was
so aroused by the fire’s heat
that he was rubbing himself in his sleep.

He was
overcome by smoke
and burned to a blackened corpse.

He was
so grief stricken that he
never dated again.

He was
so lonely in his old age
that he committed suicide.

He was
buried along side the blackened corpse
that was his former lover.

Curt Stubbs
3880 N. Park Apt. A
Tucson, Az

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Curt Stubbs Gay Poet- A BAG OF WIND SPEAKS


by Curt Stubbs

I can dance.
I can twirl.
I can jump.
I can race across the ground.

I can go slow.
I can go fast.
I can zig-zag.
I can drive a 2×4 through a brick wall.

But best of all I can destroy.

I can blow up a house.
I can toss tractor trailers like dice.
I can scatter tree limbs all over the town.

I can blow off a roof.
I can shatter windows.
I can leave the family car up in a tree.
I can leave a whole town homeless.

But best of all, I can leave a mile wide path
of destruction wherever I go.

Curt Stubbs
2880 N. Park Apt. A
Tucson, Az

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Curt Stubbs Poet- XI J.D. AND J.C. GET KISSED


by Curt Stubbs

(from the A NEW APOCRYPHA series)

That was no lady, the lady
in red and Getsemene a theater
not a garden when he waliked through the lobby
looking hot in his motorcycle jacket
and his 501’s stone washed
cause Laundromats weren’t yet invented.
And J.D and J.C were neither one thugs
but the best hopes for a people
occupied by Rome and foreclosed on
by imperial bankers. And Judas was
not a drag queen but a G-man dressed
in a red satin gown when he kissed
Dillinger’s lips and the centurions
dragged him from the theater.
A naked you man with a hard on
ran from the bathroom and out
through the lobby thinking the Romans
had come to arrest him.
And J.D. was not queer but
he had a thing for bearded men
in evening gowns. On the screen
a rooster crowed and the audience laughed
three times thinking the amusement over.

Curt Stubbs
3880 N. Park #A
Tucson, Arizona 85719
No E-mail Address

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by Curt Stubbs

It is an endless ridge that stretches
vainly past the horizon
in pursuit of the fleeing sun.

He is a square jawed, fair haired boy,
his mother’s dream of everything
any mother’s son should be.

I am cast in the image of
a shattered toy once capable of joy,
now suited best for the refuse pile.

We love in a way conceived
in night’s dark shadow, nurtured
by complete and total lack of light.

We sit atop the night sheltered ridge,
the hard cold stone beneath us
a metaphor for the heart that casts me out.

He says he wants a wife and children,
not to have to explain or justify
the love he has for me.

I throw a flower of the edge
and watch it drift to eart
a thing of beauty even in its dying.

Curt Stubbs
3880 N. Park #A
Tucson, Arizona 68719
No E-mail Address

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