Randall Mann Poems
|2.||Breakfast With Thom Gunn||4/16/2015|
|4.||Poem Beginning with a Line by John Ashbery||5/19/2015|
|9.||The End of Landscape||10/5/2017|
|10.||The Fall of 1992||10/5/2017|
|13.||A Better Life||10/5/2017|
|23.||Early Morning On Market Street||10/5/2017|
|30.||The Mortician In San Francisco||2/10/2015|
Comments about Randall Mann
The Mortician In San Francisco
This may sound queer,
but in 1985 I held the delicate hands
of Dan White:
I prepared him for burial; by then, Harvey Milk
was made monument—no, myth—by the years
since he was shot.
I remember when Harvey was shot:
twenty, and I knew I was queer.
Those were the years,
Levi's and leather jackets holding hands
on Castro Street, cheering for Harvey Milk—
elected on the same day as Dan White.
I often wonder about Supervisor White,
who fatally shot
Mayor Moscone and Supervisor Milk,
who was one of us, a Castro queer.
May 21, 1979: a jury ...
One last meal, family-style —
no family, and with suspect style.
November first, my almost-groom
fresh off his flasher costume
discharge at the office. Harris tweed.
I read it on his antisocial feed.