A circle of gay and queer men centred on the Land that sustains and nurtures our fae spirits.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Resolved to sing no songs to-day but those of manly attachment
Calamus begins with a poem that reads like a Call for a Radical Faerie Gathering:
In paths untrodden, In the growth by margins of pond waters, Escaped from the life that exhibits itself, From all the standards hitherto published -- from the pleasures, profits, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed my Soul; Clear to me now, standards not yet published—clear to me that my Soul, That the Soul of the man I speak for, feeds, rejoices only in comrades; Here, by myself, away from the clank of the world, Tallying and talked to here by tongues aromatic, No longer abashed -- for in this secluded spot I can respond as I would not dare elsewhere, Strong upon me the life that does not exhibit itself, yet contains all the rest, Resolved to sing no songs to-day but those of manly attachment, Projecting them along that substantial life, Bequeathing, hence, types of athletic love
Afternoon, this delicious Ninth Month, in my forty-first year, I proceed, for all who are, or have been, young men, To tell the secret of my nights and days, To celebrate the need of comrades.