Skip to content →



devotedly boyless.


the way

nothing is.

The point is this:


me less

than the lake

in the sheets.

The horizon

just above sex:

my thoughts

and prayers—


and short hairs.

My itch;

my side-stitch.

Every day


be lament.

An excuse

to lose

my shirt

for charity.

I feel,

if not real,


Sterile as hurt,

or parity.

from ProprietaryFind it in the library

Copyright © Persea Books 2017
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Persea Books.

Published in Poems Randall Mann

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.