Another poem, and another chance to extend my gratitude to The Good Men Project for showcasing my work.
I’ve also continued to track our sociopolitical psychoses, all of which were brought into sharp, unwelcome, unavoidable relief during the November election. Of course, my writings on these matters predate Trump; they extend back into the previous century, proving that men behaving badly, late-stage capitalism as endgame and ambush, and an info-overload world that causes (paradoxically and by design) people to feel isolated are not new phenomenon.
I’m still contributing to the ongoing project that explores American cultural history via famous (and infamous) people, but I’m also writing more poetry about men, fathers, masculinity, and…faith. I have a nearly-completed and polished full-length collection just about ready for prime time: the working title was “What Gets Heard When Men Won’t Speak” (more about that poem, and the poem itself, here), but the current title is named after another poem, “Superman, My Father.” That poem recently was featured at The Good Men Project, and I once again offer them my gratitude for being a safe and receptive place for my musings. Two more poems, from this forthcoming collection, available to read here or at the GMP site.
Let’s Get Physical
In America, they refuse to teach
sexual education,
and so boys explore women
the way they explore the world:
with fast fingers and fat thumbs,
neither comprehending
nor particularly caring
about causing pain or being gentle,
looking for shortcuts
to satisfaction, and something
that they can brag about
with other boys.