“Hands in my pocket, I leave The bar, and ask: To whose arms Will he come home tonight? In my room, the warm Lips of beer Await my constant return.” — Ronald Baytan Copy Share Image
“And so the liked of us Have learned: Dark cannot right Our cursed bodies.” — Ronald Baytan Copy Share Image
“I come home, To die of hunger. But my death is brief Because the body Desires Its own resurrection.” — Ronald Baytan Copy Share Image
“Hands in my pocket, I leave The bar, and ask: To whose arms Will he come home tonight? In my room, the warm Lips… — Ronald Baytan Copy Share Image
“Warm water travels From my hair down to my toes Like your fingers caressing Me. Now I know how lonely Water must be: To… — Ronald Baytan Copy Share Image
“I lie on my back And you open me up, because Positions change but not the axiom: One cannot be top If one cannot… — Ronald Baytan Copy Share Image
“To the question, How many men Have you slept with? I cannot tell You. But I mean to ask, This week This month this… — Ronald Baytan Copy Share Image
