Call Me Mr. Faux Pas, or, Some More Bits about AWP (for eduardo c. corral)

i asked one of my favorite gay poets if he was sending his book out. he said he was taking a break, it was expensive. i asked, "what's your salary?"
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a gay poet who just had his book released from marsh hawk press approached me in the bookfair. I was walking around talking crazily on a cell phone. "are you really talking on the phone, asshole?" and lo and behold, i wasn't. Of course, I wasn't.
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i wanted to introduce myself to every gay male poet here. that was my goal. it was a selfish one. i wanted to overcome my own homophobia. i have no gay friends, i always feel judged and the need to judge them back. (is that one of the reasons i started this blog?) in graduate school, an editor who is gay of a significant lit mag arrived my second year. all us grad students were at a retreat and i could feel myself wanting to hurt him. of course i didn't.
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so i did the next best thing: when we started talking about poetry, i made myself become a vicious parody of the gay aesthete. i felt compelled to show him that i could see the flaws in all the queer male authors. i was so mean. i could feel myself becoming more and more gay. Except the way it was happening was dumb and pointless and i couldn't control it. or i didn't want to.
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as this conference went on, i hid from gay men more and more. next year if i should come, i'll try to accomplish my goal again.
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i like awp. next year i will attend at least one panel or reading.
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i hate when a gay man says to another gay man in a platonic relationship that they want him or that they find him attractive. it always feels gratuitous even when they mean it.
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tonight i'm saying a prayer for my sick brockport friend. she isn't feeling well, and i love her. i wish i prayed kneeling down. it feels like the smartest way to pray. i always say my prayer lying on my side in bed. which sometimes i fear make them less effective.