PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

During the fifteenth year of the reign of Ptolemy the Flautist,

Aristaeus came to dwell in Alexandria, and many in

Alexandria came to him---sometimes in heartpounding,

breathtaking multiples (after their customary refractions,

during which he maintained an affable patience).

From afar, enraged haters and snickering prudes despised

him under many slurs of their obsessive obscenation.

Longhaired and slender, as agile as a royal dancer, 

his body---bearer of the expression of his soul's

nature---was entirely formed for, and inspired by, the most

exquisitely erotic homogeny (which was, he knew, the

delectable force that ancient tales had named Eros,

Eros who loved and courted the gorgeous Trojan,

Ganymede).  The eyes of Aristaeus seemed to be

alight with the effulgence of constellated stars; his

winsome smile was like the seal on all Love's promises.

Even across a room, his very presence bestirred arousals;

inhibitions collapsed, and vocal or silent objections were

gleefully ignored.  Old and young men fervently sought

admission to his intimacy; Poets and lovely boys

sought to dusk their nights and dawn their days

with his besplendored nakedness.  The beds on which

he laid with them were not profaned by lust but

sanctified by Love he enacted for them.  Lithe and

eager, his body became the instrument that

delivered his clients' pleasures; seeking only

their utter and total satisfaction without regard to his own.

Gladly they paid---not for his flesh, they said, but

only for the premium time he gave to them; and

some paid with gold, some with silver, and some

with the coinage of the merchants' stalls.  These

revenues he did not squander lavishly; but, rather,

invested with largesse in dockside warehouses and

wharves; in ships and livestock; and precious jewels.

He hired a mathematician from the Library (rather than a

bookkeeper from some slavehouse, brothel or tavern) to

oversee his investments which prospered and appreciated---

sometimes wildly.  He hired a shrewd lawyer, an exile from

Rome (said to have advised Lentulus Batiatus, after the

Third Servile War had commenced) to keep his title

deeds and bills of purchase in good legal order.

During his twenty-ninth year, his joints began to ache, and

his limber agility---in service of male to male desire and

surging releases of sweetness---began to fail, he

instructed the mathematician and lawyers to liquidate

his holdings, and to purchase for him an ancient estate,

not far from Alexandria, once the possession of

Ptolemy Soter, son of Lagid the commoner.  The

property was a vast, bucolic complex of manor

houses, thriving gardens, copses of trees, and a

large, shimmering pool replenished by generous

underground springs.  They tell me that visitors who

stepped within those high, and high-hedged, stone walls

forgot all thought of Alexandria---so beautiful was that

landscape, like an analogue to Aristaeus' ephebic beauty.

He, himself, sought, in the city's back alleys and

irreputable houses, the pretty, delicate, long-haired boys,

boy-whores, whom pimps and perverts regularly exploited.

These he invited to live with him in the guarded

safety of Coerulescence, the Roman word that

named his estate.  Let us go there now, and, thence,

behold the long-haired, always barefoot boys at play; or

reading, say, Callimachus' Poetry; or holding hands

along a flowerstrewn path; or kissing, without shame or

guilt, in broad noonlight; or swimming, naked, in the

pool, and touching each other, provocatively, there.

Starward

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