Okay, I get a little angry sometimes…

Politics? Overly-gymed bros? Maybe Christians?

• “Sailing to Turkiye, or Egypt, or Port Canaveral”
• “Criminals”
• “Victory”
• “To Steve the Gymboy: A Comment“

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In early July 2026, Virgin Voyages’ Scarlet Lady, chartered by Atlantis Events for an LGBTQ+ Mediterranean cruise, faced back-to-back port denials from the governments of Turkiye and Egypt. Turkish officials declared the passengers “incompatible with the fabric of our society and our moral values.” Egypt offered no explanation.

This piece is my response.

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Sailing to Turkiye, or Egypt, or Port Canaveral

Searching the on-board closet,
bell-bottoms and rainbow tanks 
for 70s Nite
next to a dusty suit I nearly forgot 
(a tie? not if I can get away with it).
I’m proud the college pants still fit,
mostly. Reminds me that I’m not done yet.

But there, and here, 
it’s important to keep old clothes handy.
It’s fun. It’s strategy.
You never know when the costume will
get you laid or save your life.
Religious folk are funny like that.
Ravenous in the bathhouse,
ready to string you up after prayers.

So I keep both sets, hoping for the party
but ready to tie the noose tight 
around my neck. Again.
Play my part. Again. 
Make them feel right at home.

Because as long as they’re at home,
all those believers in God,
and this ship dancing its way to Greece,
or California, we’re all just a little bit 
safer.

For a time.

A bit.

⤒

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“Criminals”

What if every person –
every single criminal on
this beautiful planet –
every thick Republican,
every murderer,
every pedophile –

is the image and likeness
of life,
this beautiful monstrous 
planet eating itself to 
survive,
these beautiful heinous
humans its chief
priests
loading the next sacrifice?

⤒

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“Victory”

“Stand back, stand by”

I am about to know

I have loam and rock for a back
and blue-grey sky for a head

honor an orange sun yellow
and gaze purple into ink

rest in love
as I have done all these years,
wake to heartbeats
and sleep with all sighs.

Then 

when unripe Boys rape in dirt
and shoot dark;

masturbate dry pricks
blood-smear voided genitals

kill this body
gorge on dull meat
eat our kind
burn our memory;

then

my arms Earth and Sky
my companion-Sun
my love this man

envelop me
pierce this hell
carry me home.

⤒

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“To Steve the GymBoy: A Comment”

Yes.
You are strong.
A young blade of grass
standing up so tall and beautiful,
wide against your slender brothers,
a green I have not seen
proud in my envious buggy gaze.

You battled the breeze
and eagerly withstood all the mist
nature could throw at you.
After such fury,
more sure of yourself,
bro,
you flashed tall among those like you,
proud once more,
cocky.

But look up, too, if you dare,
and see the tree
that held your ground together
no longer tall beyond all others
but uprooted, dead on its side.

Ask yourself then,
little wide blade of grass,

if survival is simply another way of saying
you haven’t seen anything yet.

⤒

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