Saturday, April 25, 2015

Cole Porter was Gay

Sometimes facts sound  like accusations        His deranged felicity   both the   pulse and corpse of
                           American Blackness         Imagine   a  rich kid like Miles     begging for the great white all    minus the burden                           as if   in the midst of his martyrdom    he had lost his faith    

                We fall in love like enemies   because  it takes   forever  to grieve our sameness     and

those statues  can't be accurate    I mean the ones  who suddenly appear   on the highway  of my nightmare      where  the   clean  coon   blooming in some ecstatic meekness   that passes   for militant   is /  shot   back   to his will  by   the   fascists   he hired to document his ghosts—tell on them
                                                                                                                                                 free at last  
And too many   of these     tabloids   end    the same        all the safe  and jaunty  decadence   crammed  into   a  jazz man's   ass   and  out   his   trumpet or matte pastoral         I       think  
                                                                                                       if affection  didn't  have to be so violent   to get   true    
if genius   wasn't out of this   world  like jesus, zeus, and zarathursta   strung out on otherness
     that  crime    missing  a criminal  and     I wonder  also   if part of the task    of    uplifting the living black myth     isn't   to demolish      the sanctity  of Cole Porter                  pray  the ideas  slur

and some unlikely hero  emerges  telling everyone to go home at once   and love a  man