Saturday, 8 September 2012

We Two Boys Together Clinging

We two boys together clinging,
One the other never leaving,
Up and down the roads going, North and South excursions making,
Power enjoying, elbows stretching, fingers clutching,
Arm'd and fearless, eating, drinking, sleeping, loving.
No law less than ourselves owning, sailing, soldiering, thieving,
Misers, menials, priests alarming, air breathing, water drinking, on
the turf or the sea-beach dancing,
Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, feebleness chasing,
Fulfilling our foray.

Walt Whitman. c. 1855.

Just seen this.
I have literally just seen this!
Two young queens walking home in the morning,
lovers, I guess,
or maybe just great best friends.
Both mashed and propping the other one up,
holding hands and thinking
"Who cares?"

And I thought, there is still some hope for the world.
And suddenly I felt glad to be alive.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. That's beautiful.
    Your sighting, the Whitman pome and the photo.

    I spent a few hours recently going through a large flickr collection of old gay couples or just homoerotic friendships, like group army shots all kisses and cuddles etc, ahem.
    I thought about all the male-male couples who existed before photography and how they would have looked in such poses and it reminded me a bit of a BBC Horizon film I saw the other week about how big the Universe is, or could possibly be.
    They made the distinction between the Space we are ever likely to be able to see (one way or another, ie. not just with the naked eye through advanced telescopes etc but also in an abstract sense) and the rest (possibly infinite in size) that we'll never be able to know.
    I almost certainly have that wrong.
    Anywho, my (mis)interpretation reminds me of these photos from way, way back and the scant recorded evidence we have of your actual gay in history (or male-male sex and love, to divorce it from modern terms/concepts).
    The fact it's all lost to history, as it were, and is ultimately unknowable.
    Erm, I don't know where I'm going with this.

    Ooh, I'm reading a book about David Foster Wallace where John Updike is quoted inside:

    "all things end under heaven, and if temporality is held to be invalidating, then nothing really succeeds"

    Don't understand that but it sounds like bollocks.
    But a fitting end to my tedious comment. :D

    Seriously, that's a beautiful sight, pome and photo x