Thursday, January 23rd, 2014...4:06 pm

a note from the editor…

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…Outlaw Poetry needs a break. Time will tell to re-activate the page. Thanks to all who contributed.


  • All the best during your break … cheers! DaP

  • thanks for the work you put in for the love of poetry.

    may those who have passed rest in peace.

  • You deserve it and then some. Thanks for all you have done for the literary community and enjoy your down time.
    a.d. winans

  • Thank you for all the time you put in and the wonderful works of artists you’ve put out!

  • Ryan Quinn Flanagan
    January 23rd, 2014 at 7:23 pm

    Enjoy the break Herr Klaus…cheers brother.

  • Thank you Herr Klaus, for all you’ve done with this site. And for giving me the amount of space you have. Outsanding! You’ve given all of us a shot in the arm …. so to speak. Good luck with your writing.

    Have a good rest. Cheers, my friend.

  • Klaus – take it easy man, recharge those batteries and come back stronger than ever. there are so few supporters of the word…we need you to stay in the game as long as you can. good luck and long life to you, my friend.

  • Take a break Klaus, you’ve earned it. Thanks for the great site. Enjoy your time off.

  • Thanks Herr Klaus – I have enjoyed your site over the years -Be Well and have a Marvelous Time!!!

  • I share your frustration and disappointment. After 17 years it gets harder and harder for us at FlashPoint to put our energies into a new issue much less find material of a caliber that warrants the effort. And even at that the corporate culture holds sway over the general population and has marginalized everything but the most neotenous money making drivel. Neotenous e.g.”the retention of juvenile characteristics in the adults of a species.”

  • Take care of yourself and rest. Thank you for this fine journal. Thank you for everything.

  • Thanks my friend… you ARE human and not a machine! Smell those goddamn roses, drink good wine, and listen to jazz ’till the morning light blinds you.

  • Take a rest Klaus, the poets and the words will always be here waiting.

  • What they said, Brother Klaus. Enjoy your sabbatical

  • You have meant the world to us, the outsider poets. Rest easy and well, Klaus. Your site is truly the best of the independents.

  • Go easy Herr Klaus. Thank you for everything you have done. You did a great thing with the site. Be well friend~

  • Enjoy your time to rest.
    We appreciate all the work you
    do for us but mainly we appreciate you.
    The best to you and your family.
    Roger Singer

  • thank you, klaus, for all your attention and publications of my poems. this is a magnificent site,
    one i’ve come to in times of need, boredom, frustration, but also in times of inspiration and joy.
    i wish you all the best of luck and thank you again
    for all you’ve done for all of us…
    rich quatrone

  • thanks for everything, Klaus. You are a character! Be well.

  • Victor Schwartzman
    July 31st, 2014 at 5:12 pm

    You deserve a break sure, but we also need you to come back! Thanks for everything, now and in the future!

  • Only just discovered the site today. I hope the break does you well and I look forward to your return (and to catching up with the archives while I wait!)

  • It’s February 20, 2015, and I just now read all these responses of encouragement and understanding. But hell! The Outlaw Poetry Network isn’t dead! The quality of the vast amount of material in it is high, very high, and very much ALIVE! It is a wonderland that can be delved into again and again and again. Comments can still be made and writers and poets can still interact. And Herr Klaus is still a dynamo and very much alive. So–get in there and mix it up!

  • Just found this website a few days ago. How in the hell did I miss it? Easy enough to figure out. I have not thought about or written poetry in twenty years. So when I go a looking I find Outlaw. Damn. Too bad it is dormant. We need good poetry on the web. It is filled with sophomoric crap.

    Lately, when i have dreamed of HOME what appears is that riverbottom cabin where 2 men lived and took my brothers and me out in their boat fishing and just seeing the shore life as my
    father jack kicked back reclining at shore dreaming baseball.
    Back to that time and of the Pierce-Arrow with the rumble seat trunk where we rode free to the sky: cars and with dogs in them cars with the rumble seats the mid 1940′s that were old even
    then and guys back from World War II who had them and we
    loved them, ducking down into the space inside when windy or cold or you were afraid –or my dad or and the guys were a bit worried. We bounced over potholes, roots, humps heading down
    to the river and their cabin, some tributary of our Niagara
    River. I remember those two guys who lived down there after, back from the war, and the one who’d had a leg off used to grab me to haul me over these ditches and trees, the blond hunk
    with the missing leg but some replacement (and I think now it
    was my first crush on a guy) in his 20′s who my dad used to play baseball with and the other guy my my dad’s buddy from their boy scout days or from the Tuscarora reservation near Niagara.
    Lately, when I have dreamed of home what appears is the rumble seat.
    © Edward Mycue 22 May 2009
    Art Lund sang Joey from THE MOST HAPPY FELLOW (‘in the whole Napa Valley’– from Frank Loesser’s musical of Sidney Kingsley’s depression-era play THEY KNEW WHAT THE WANTED ), Vaughn Monroe deeptoned Mona Lisa; Nat King Cole, had his easy way with Nature Boy. Then it’s Ebb Tide, The Unchained Melody (‘Time goes by so slowly/and time can do so much….), & Teresa Brewer wailing: Let me go/let me go/Let Me Go, Lover ./Let me be/set me free/from your spell.’ [—oh, yeh. yeh, yeh.] My brother David’s absolute favorite: Perez Prado’s (It’s) Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White (‘when you’re in love’—That must have been his Joanie Parker song.). [I was sixteen that summer working as old Mr. Flanagan’s helper at the Campfire Girls’ camp, south of Dallas, on a ridge above the Big Brothers’ camp below, where my best friend Frank ‘Nicky’ Knickerbocker worked--his mother got us our jobs.] Spin to Perry Como singing No Other Love (have I/only my love for you,/only the dream we knew,/into the night I cry/hurry home, come home to me,/set me free/ free from doubt/ and free/ from longing.– from Rogers & Hammerstein’s ME AND JULIET). Now switch into ‘It’s always like this/I worry and wonder,/your lips may be near/ but where is your heart?’ (The Song From Moulin Rouge). After that is Shake Rattle & Roll (‘You wear those thin dresses/and the sun come shining through./I didn’t know honey all that belonged to you.’ Adults were shocked at those lines, yet we were not so lascivious as they were I think.) Now skirl/ swoon to Vic Damone crooning Eternally the soaring theme of Charlie Chaplin’s LIMELIGHT movie [By the end of that summer of nineteen fifty-three I thought I loved Ellie the Campfire Girls’ summer-camp cook’s boy friend also from her North Carolina college a football hunk working in that Big Brother camp in that valley below]: “though the stars may cease to shine/my love shall always be/forever true and loving you / eternally.” My youth now seems a good earth original today so achingly beautiful. Great grandmother Jane Kennedy Delehant had often intoned “Backward, oh backward/ o time in thy flight/ make me a child again/ just for tonight.” Night! So now in this time/ over time I think it, write, say it now recalling that summer I was 16. © © Edward Mycue

    3. AFTER J
    That first time, he called me on a snowy night
    asked me to come to his apartment for drinks with
    him and his mother.
    I wound up spending the night.
    His roommate was another policeman away then.
    I lay down on the roommate’s mattress.
    Soon J was
    calling me over to his where he asked me if I kissed.
    We became more intimate and asked if I 69’d.
    “brown me” he said squirming over. But the next
    week he accused me of turning him queer, beat me.
    I was not naïve: left Amarillo within the week.

    He found I’d gotten a job as a reporter in Dallas and
    came to the copy desk at the Times Herald alternately
    saying he loved me and threatening me. I moved again.

    One day, years later, that old roommate phoned me in
    Boston and told me J had shot himself leaving my
    telephone number on a note asking that I be called.

    J was 33, Arnie said, was a Korean War vet and had
    gotten a B.A. at North Texas in Denton on the G.I.Bill.
    Arnie said he didn’t know what J’s demons were.
    J was his best man at the wedding:
    Arnie and Maris named their first son, Jay, after him.
    Arnie said J had been fired from the Police Department

    for excessive violence in arrests, a questioned stakeout,
    but mainly because of his drunkenness. Through those years
    he’s mentioned me and kept the photo of we three
    everywhere he lived next to the bed.
    Arnie asked would I like it. I said: “Keep it for Jay”.
    © Edward Mycue 3595 Geary Blvd, Apt 320, San Francisco, CA 94118 USA tel. (415) 387-2471
    4. HOME

    Many of us could never go home
    even when we had not left it.

    Home is a windsong in our hearts.

    These hearts have exploded,
    repositioned themselves, ending
    as much the mends themselves
    as the remaindered hearts.

    This then is ‘home’.

    © Edward Mycue

    You don’t need contrition
    for a condition.
    Maybe an explanation
    will do.
    Maybe it’s an act–
    not a crime.
    You don’t need permission
    to seek sublime.
    It’s the condition.
    Don’t ask vindication.
    Brighten the dark.
    No negatives first.
    Follow your thirst.
    Trust intuition.
    It’s the condition.
    © Edward Mycue
    6. QUEER RIMES 1 & 2 (©Edward Mycue)
    Im here Im queer
    And sure Ive felt some fear
    ‘cause I don’t fit in
    And what I do others have called sin
    But last night after gloaming
    I drank a beer and later
    I had wine & then I lay my head
    On my boyfriend’s bed
    Where I slept until the morning
    When morning came I woke up fresh
    And took him in my arms
    And we sampled joys in the day light
    That is the love of guys.
    A night of bliss began with your kiss
    And forty-three years later
    Still today we always pray
    We’ll remain until a crater
    Will welcome us
    When our ashes are cashed
    And our river of life is stilled
    We thank our Creator
    Who our River Keeper was
    And kept our banks secure.
    Up on the mountains
    Where the streams begin
    And the water starts-out pure
    There’s a light that showers
    Two guys like us
    And protects us with its power.
    (c)copyright Edward Mycue 18 AUG 2016

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