POEM: A prayer to Antinous Belenos

O Antinous Belenos,
lord of this day, friend of Flora,
lady of the white track,
hunter who with your lover
Hadrian the wise and prudent
brought down the terrible boar:
hear our prayer and hunt the boar
that still rages among us;
the boar that feasts on women,
the boar that charges same-sex love,
the boar that tramples trans folk,
the boar that fears and hates Eros.
Hunt down the terrifying boar
that always threatens lovers,
that gores and gashes any kind of love
that is not restriction and repression,
hierarchy and domination,
the master and his property.
Hunt down the boar of hatred,
O mighty Antinous Belenos,
so that all lovers may love
free of fear and free of chains.

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POEM: The Erotic Metaphor (for Antinous the Lover)

If my love is like a red red rose, then a red red rose is also like my love, and perhaps Burns was thinking of the folded petals nestled between the twin stems of her legs, holding honey inside.

If my love is like a melody that’s sweetly played in tune, then a sweet melody is like my love, perhaps like her cries of pleasure as he opened the rose and sought inside.

If the love of Solomon and Sheba is like the love of Israel and Hashem, or the love of God and the Church, or the love of Christ and the soul, then the love of the body is like the love of the soul, the body with its breasts like twin gazelles, its ruddy tower, its belly-heap-of-wheat, its dripping myrrh.

If eros is a metaphor for agape, then agape is a metaphor for eros, because the metaphor is a seesaw, a bridge, a two-way street, and the love of an emperor for a youth is divine love, and the love of a youth become god is an erotic love, is a sexual love, is a romantic love, is a passionate, quivering, dripping, fragrant, noisy love,

and this, Antinous, my beloved, is the only love I have ever truly desired.

POEM: To Antinous the Lover 2

You are the Boy crowned with the flowers

that Flora calls out of the moist earth.

You are the Beautiful Beloved who catches

the eye of Venus as she wafts ashore.

You are the wine of Dionysus, the music

of Apollo, the green grass of Osiris,

the laughter of Hermes over the dice.

You are the best friend, the dearest lover,

the guest welcome everywhere, bringer

of gifts. Beloved of Hadrian, twin of Eros,

bridegroom of Melinoe, Lover of those who

love you, come, Antinous, our Lover,

with flower and fruit, with cup and lyre,

with joy and sunshine, with tears and rain,

come down to earth, which both hallows

and is hallowed by your footsteps, and

be our emperor of peace, of joy, of love.

POEM: To Antinous the Lover 1

I dreamt of your coming long before you came–

dreams of boat rides watching the sun set

while you stood in the prow, wild curls streaming

in the wind. The water under us was dark green

and strewn with flowers, white, red, deep blue,

golden yellow. Then we docked and there was

a party under striped canvas, grilled meat, heaps

of rice, vegetables in every color, and wine, wine,

wine. You filled my cup again and again

before I could empty it, smiling, your mouth

full of silent promises. Later, when the moon

had risen, we sat alone by the river and you fed

me chocolate cake, not too sweet, perfect.

In a few days, this dream will come true.