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W 177th & Broadway

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W 177th & Broadway All night you eyed the man I wanted to be; my jaw flexed tight. Anger slipped into desire. Easily he would rise. Easily you would disperse, pleasure made into light: what you want under him, I put on to amuse— I, your worked supplicant. Yes, love is looking away. My desire greened in your dismissal. Was technicolor and twilight-made and never turning off. The city air hung humid above our charade. What need I could fill: to transubstantiate, to unravel?
W 177th & Broadway All night you eyed the man I wanted to be; my jaw flexed tight. Anger slipped into desire. Easily he would rise. Easily you would disperse, pleasure made into light: what you want under him, I put on to amuse— I, your worked supplicant. Yes, love is looking away. My desire greened in your dismissal. Was technicolor and twilight-made and never turning off. The city air hung humid above our charade. What need I could fill: to transubstantiate, to unravel?

Read Phillip B. Williams’ introduction to Taylor Johnson here.

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