Ass[ert yourself!]

When you want 

not to be the man you

weren’t but, rather, to become

the man you ought,

and you sought – and

seek, like game of


den and burrowed 

deep be-

neath your sense of

your own-


sex, and ten-

dernesses and

derrières unbound (and so

maybe bound!), and that’s 

precisely when,

and then it is clear

how little you fear – any 

less or more –

over the blood of 

fleshed out senses and 

paced out spaces 

and recently sensed 

opportunity presenting itself

that nicely as the 


of poison-

free chalice allow you to 

just go and … well … choose


And then again: rise 


in the event, from

the temptation sub-

merged and sectioned by so

much sadness and rejection

from the four institutions

that ert you so all those 

years ago 



yays and 

nays, resumed and 

presumed and assumed as

long as anyone 

was able to remember or

refriend: or even


time much longer than that.

And so finally

I stand tall, and by 

erting my comfort 

do recall the man I once

never was 

and I bring him –

like clay-booted inspector of


icky right and

wrong – back to some 

semblance of real


The joy of the man


finally knows him


(And in this




proud of his LOUD!)

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