Poems of/for Rufus

Just dumped this on the internet.  And how are you?

Poems of/for Rufus 1:
Wrote this mostly at Union Station in 2001. The summer I found Rufus Wainwright's 'Poses' and fell in love. Oh my God, by Greek song I was turned completely on.
Enjoy:
http://www.lifelib.blogspot.com/p/books.html

RUFUS WAINWRIGHT

To my new love with Elvis’ sideburns
And Sahala’s cheekbones
And the black leather jacket:

Your heart beats out a snore, a drone,
What’s the word – a sonorous?
Tune that melts me, joins me to you.

Like you,
I want to sing about places and
Scrappy girls’ asses.

@

I fell for you – you came over me
And made me bob my head in recognition,
Association, identification.

Maybe you’re no Techie
But you must KNOW Yale,
Or Howard, or Julliard – surely.

Because you are not another
Happy white boy with a guitar –
You’re a trickster!

You belt out on the key of B flat to
Taunt me. I go off key.
You draw your “ah” for, like, five bars
As I fumble and lose count.

@

You wear the stupid black leather jacket
And place yourself next to Pete Yorn
At Olsson’s.

But you’re not one of them.
You’re Sahala: part Indonesian, part Swedish.
You’re part preppie, part bum.
Bourgie boy, silver spoon and all.

@

And you trick me into paying for
This portfolio, as it were;
This…beautiful sampler
Of your art.
It’s just art – just a job –
To you.

You made me love you, Rufus Baby.
Together we’ll wreak havoc, you and me!

(in Comrade, 2010)

Poems of/for Rufus 2:
I was writing a ton of ten-line poems a couple of years ago. Of course I wouldn't know what to write without Rufus, and a few of the poems are inspired by him indirectly. He introduced me to Jeff Buckley, Viktor & Rolf, ... reintroduced Edith Piaf...
But then I wrote this one about his mother and he, because well of course I think I know the family.
But isn't "Martha" heart-rending? And in those days too, "Dinner at Eight". And by Martha BMFA but not quite the same Cancerian wallowing in pain of Mr. Wainwright.
I hope he likes this,

KATE'S SONG FOR BABY

In that: my weather-worn trunk
With its cracks and warts
Would grant me such a
Fresh salmon-rose bud – you.

You will grow surrounded by
Lies. Tales of good spirits,
Good things; like Adam in the garden
You will believe everything.

Your daddy is not perfect.
You will be perfecter.

(coming soon at http://www.lifelib.blogspot.com/p/books.html )