Poems about loss and mourning for gay men

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Thank you for visiting Publishers Weekly. I faced the rise and fall of my father's stomach and plunged my hand carefully through the elastic waist bands of his shorts, startled at how different his penis looked from mine: Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been. When we bury the old, we bury the known past, the past we imagine sometimes better than it was, but the past all the same, a portion of which we inhabited. I never thought I'd get through those first days, weeks and months, but - I did.

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No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.

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Searching for Solace in Queer Poetry

The tide recedes, but leaves behind Bright seashells on the sand. If you are anxious, you are living in the future. Light diffused through the blanket. The second one begins when you realize you have only one. Grief is a skill never learned

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But no matter, the point being I was made aware of Uncle Walt, albeit I was still too young and living in the Philippines, so it took several more years until I read selections from Leaves of Grass. After a while, it's still there, but you learn to walk round it. I listened to it over and over. If you become a professional widow, I will haunt you. And sometimes we don't. Legaspi, a fellow queer Asian-American poet, has a way of talking about the body that estranges it from the gazes of others.

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