Please God, don't let Christmas come
Without my Randolph Taylor.
My quest is still a painful one:
Adrift at sea, a lonesome sailor.

I can't believe that he is dead,
His soul bound to the quilt.
Oh can't this be another man,
Same name, in golden gilt?)

How many years I've walked this path
Of love's devotion on the cross,
Only to echo The Devil's laugh:
"You lost, you lost, you lost!"

I pray, I guess, for miracles,
Each breath a sacred wish:
My heart a candle in the dark,
Or in the deep blue ocean, a single
  golden fish!



"Please help me stop the dying," was
Randolph's tender plea,
Scrolled across a letter:
The first he sent to me.

But now my sadness falls like rain,
And drowns my joy like a broken toy.
I cannot bear this pain.

I cannot bear not knowing
How you, dear Randolph, are.
(My heart forever glowing, whether
   near or far
For a man who gave me everything
And set my course to a star!)

Without you, my dear Randolph,
I have no way to steer.
The waves are crashing 'gainst the prow;
The clouds are tumbling near!

I yearn for you my chipmunk,
My little piece of Heaven.
If my soul were a loaf of bread,
Your kiss would be the leaven.

Quilt display in San Francisco's City Hall, November 1992
(Honoring S.F. police who died of AIDS.)

A great warrior whose brave men and women perished in battle, still stands tall before her enemies. Unslain and proud, she dances the war dance high up on a ridge, where the enemies stare from below. They are boiling with anger, for now, she taunts!

Suddenly, her left knee is pierced with an arrow...yet still she dances. The limp she has acquired in no way diminishes the nobility of The Dance; in fact it honors her more! So much so, that the Great Spirit lifts her off the earth and into the sky, to praise this fine warrior's indomitable courage.

The enemies, seeing this, grow jealous. So her other knee is struck, and, amazingly, our brave warrior does not fall back to earth, but dances on, and is elevated even higher! Then a shower of arrows pierces her all over...yet still she dances, never missing a step in her prideful display: the feathers of her headdress touch the blazing sun itself, unsinged!

Still more arrows rain upon her, and her flesh falls away. Her body parts all drop off, one by one...yet she still dances so nobly, so beautifully! There is nothing left of her now, but a dancing skeleton. Then even her bones fall, and what remains after this? Her spirit, dancing!

For she *is Little Pony, brave warrior of the Sun, who dances in the sky--silver unicorn with pink aura--celebrating the liberation of all her earthly gay sisters and brothers across this tiny globe. So remember this: whether the sun is shining or not, or if it is on the other side of the planet: Little Pony is dancing for you, for your victory. Little Pony is invincible, for she *is The Spirit of Gay Pride.

And sometimes when you squint up at Father Sun--especially at dusk--you will see Little Pony dancing. And if you tell her "thank you", you will find her also dancing in your heart, forever.