I Must Praise Your Body

I must praise your body; 

It’s like the earth’s dark soil

spoiled by the tropical sun, redolent of harvest,

I bury my eager hands into your fertility,

and bring out the rich greenery.


I drink from your lips the nectar of life; spring

is in your saffron-colored perianth.

My body is burning,

from my loins to my eyes,

the battlefield of virtue and sin.


I’m a proud man, broken by you.

The vengeance of love bends me;

The pain of love crushes me;

And forgetfulness saves me.

To A Barista


I feel my desire like the sea throb and throb

inside my loin each time I walk by

my favorite barista in the street corner cafe ,

a young man, twenty six years old,

smelling like the mix of ten different coffee beans.

standing at the entrance, I watch quietly

how his chest heaves and falls with a slight agitation,

and how his eyes, like the early spring water,

flow and immerse his customers with a warm glow.

He must have felt my look and turns to me for a second,

Eros somersaults in the air – he winks.

I feel elated and a story runs through my mind ,

a story about a man who fought in the wilderness and died

for the lover that could never love him back.

The story boasted of his valor and blind devotion,

but I know the body that once was a living man,

equally young and beautiful, like this barista here in shanghai,


It must have been too much alcohol ,

even your look becomes suddenly so tender

and full of the promise of a summer’s night.

I’m longing to have you , right here, right now

before the light of the day steals you away

and I might never see you again.

anyway that’s the game,

a sweet but ruthless encounter with no tomorrow

for queers like us in this all embracing land.

but I like you tonight – that’s why this empty bar

does call for something more intimate between us.

your face, your half-open shirt,

O the rushing sound deep inside my vein!

It’s been too good a night to let you flee.

just stay a while longer with me.

If you desire the heartfelt admiration,

or compliments that all men before and after me can offer ,

I have none better than my loneliness in a promiscuous life,

and tonight, I’ve given it to you .

To A Man On Instagram

It’s for me purely to kill time when I open Instagram,

all the faces that I’ve followed sofar ,

all the nature wonders that are captured by cameras

seem almost magical,

I’m carried away to a different life, a different place

while sitting in my squalid room smelling of unfinished beer.

and I see you suddenly , like a seagull embraced

by the velvety blue of the sea, there, you stand

proudly with your face toward me, and the sun

scatters down a handful of gold on your masculine body,

It was in Bali, I guess, and the wind ran quiet

on the line down your naked chest and lost to your tight shorts.

I become weak, and a chill runs through me,

what eyes that transfix, what heart that throbs, and what beauty !

The indecencies of my youth, like a wasted part of me,

turn suddenly odious in your gaze.

Saddened, I walk to the balcony facing the city i once knew,

to smoke perhaps, the summer breeze is scorching.

It only seemed yesterday when life bid farewell

and shuffled away , sobbing ,mingling into a flood

of faces in this city ,

While I’m constraint like a patient with the psychosis

of always looking for something in this forgetting world,

Something that I could almost find in you, right here on this picture

while I write your sensual smile into an ode.

For that’s what I have only – a pen, and too eager a heart

to feel, to soar, and to drop heavy again to the iron ground of life.

– to Yaya