Gerard Sarnat is a physician who’s built/staffed homeless clinics, a Stanford professor/healthcare CEO who’s been married since 1969 with three kids plus four grandkids and more on the way. Gerard Sarnat’s been nominated for Pushcarts plus Best of the Net Awards and is widely published including by Oberlin, Brown, Columbia, Virginia Commonwealth, Johns Hopkins and in Gargoyle, Main Street Rag, New Delta Review, MiPOesias, Blue Mountain Review, Brooklyn Review, and LA Review. KADDISH FOR COUNTRY was selected for pamphlet distribution on Inauguration Day nationwide. “Amber Of Memory” was the single poem chosen for his 50th Harvard reunion Dylan symposium. Collections: Homeless Chronicles (2010), Disputes (2012), 17s (2014), and Melting the Ice King (2016).
***ALL IN THE FAMILY ALTERNATING CURRENTS: ORIGINAL PEOPLE, HETERODICKS AND HETERODOCS [5+-+-+-+-+-]
“Broken windows and empty hallways
A pale dead moon in the sky streaked with gray
Human kindness is overflowing
And I think it's going to rain today.”
-- Nina Simone, I Think It's Going To Rain Today
1. In Your Other Face
In the Co-op, hippies nodded, Nice bandana on her!
At the park, Japanese grandparents smiled, She’s so sweet.
The child’s 102 year-old great-grandma wrote after I emailed
a photo, Eli's kid looks more like a girl than the girl. Love, Mom.
But my son and his wife -- who seem to be fueled by how others mistake
Ben Blaze’s long hair for a DSM dysgender code, have no plans to visit straight-edged barber.
2. TESTOSTERONED HE-MAN SYNDROMES, AND NOT 
i. Hickory Dickory, Whose Is Biggest: What [Several Things] Are Wrong With This List?
“When someone shows you who they are believe them; the first time.” ― Maya Angelou
From Time Magazine’s The 100 Most Significant Figures in History*
4 William Shakespeare
5 Abraham Lincoln
6 George Washington
7 Adolf Hitler
9 Alexander the Great
10 Thomas Jefferson
11 Henry VIII of England
12 Charles Darwin
13 Elizabeth I of England
Scanning above POTUS XLV might Twitter,
Screw approval ratings! And fuck Lizzie
-- soon I’ll be on top of THIS list!!
ii. Energizer Bunny haiku
Trump days -- eight hours
jiggling cable rabbit ears
-- jack attention span.
iii. Call me 7-Eleven cause I’m open all night.
During the Barak era, I was zeker content with
Amerikan kindness of strangers passing this queer
wooden shoeless homeless hunk & his kid spare change
in the rain as they got off their Memphis streetcars
but now that it’s become Donald J. Trump Billionaire
who is inspiring small business entrepreneurialism,
Stella + this frigging Irishman with expired green card’ll
bootstrap to succeed as drug-dealing red light undesirables.
iv. NO DRAMA OBAMA
This evening’s Barak’s last in The White House family residence. Mister President, many of us sure will miss that disciplined, Seven almonds, not eight. As POTUS XXIV, you were so famous for late night snack as well as other restraint. I’ll shed tears of happiness if Trump’s Inauguration’s rained out.
3. OEDIPUS WRECKS 
i. breathless & other spells
but no period yet.
my own menarche
nurse rest periods.
college career kids
más o menos bien
what after the pause?
from her bubble
while she watched
most famous movie
big red hand balls,
little pink tricycle,
plus other commas
ii. XY -- From A Newborn
Who are you
Up there, far away where I can’t see,
Ominous voice and no touch?
Even if I don’t like
The eyes or tone or feel --
Having Mommy, I’m touched.
Will this become me
The way it always is, Daddy,
Never close or personal?
iii. From A College Boychick
Crossing the Plaza's Free Speech Movement hallowed ground
in the late sixties, a Stanford medical student unusually wearing coat and tie to attend a Berkeley conference with my father, we spied a lovely familiar face in the crowd. Dad knew her as my sister's high school friend; I, as a buddy's nice ex-girl who was moved to freely speak me into my place at a party or two when I was maybe too full of myself, or too stoned, or very likely both.
I remained quiet, apparently disinterested, while Pops asked what she was doing that summer before her senior year. "An anthro major castrating rats on a research grant." A part of me wanted to sprawl on the ground in front of Sprowl Hall, grovel, declare myself yours forever. But luckily this contemporary smirking male chimp, though very attracted to her, waited a year and a half until he'd sowed some wild oats, was a little more mature, and had a fighting chance to woo this lady who has been his love ever since.
What was it back then that seemed so hot about Hecubean,howling,
bra-burning, power-hungry, vengeful, wombless "vagina dentata"
(castrating vagina with teeth) women obsessed by modern man's
sexual performance? Why did Hector, Cassandra, and Paris' mom,
the wife of wise King Priam, almost always bring up a strong case of priapism in me that had to be most forcefully strapped down?
iv. Love Me Do Touché
-- thanks to Vuong Quoc Vu
There’s stuff about poetry which sure brings out childhood’s
Sisyphean labor of your tough selections.
There is something sweet and pure, joyousness plus warmth
from summer days we carry with us still.
It is just like being in a French bakery, where counter shelves
are stacked high with delicious pastries.
A banquet bevy of sumptuous golden crisp almond croissants
one after another I wish that I could have.
Keep American verse alive vibrant, keep creating beautiful art
to defy her Trump sadness -- keep singing!
vi. Confessions Of A Moveable Brothel Serial Franchise Eschatologist
“This is going to leave a bad taste in a lot of people's eyes.”
-- anti-bussing Congressperson Louise Day Hicks, 1916- 2003
When I barely made it back from making mad love
on Bateaux Orange in the Seine to a bit more sane
New Haven Connecticut, just behind the truck stop's
forsaken Orange Julius, a familiar working lady’s
French kisses soothed my nerves while they sutured
my box of goods which turned out unexpectedly to
be downright friable rather than pliable like the past.
Nothing much happened clickedity-clicky early, so
after consulting the boss’s Ouija board, their union’s
risk management officer advised declining moi’s
business but the women did not, thusly I digress
from that new girl who was a Massachusetts mill
town runaway addict before we got even friendlier
spooning in a Boston Back Bay Friendly’s Restaurant.
Bottom-line of which is Gownie houses Townie in
liberal-leafy Brookline close to JFK’s birthplace near
J.P. Licks Ice Cream Flavors where our fam rented
her modeste rooms in return for cleaning up + caretaker
services if I’m off doing anthropology “field research”
in Paris then eventually also assorted last lick favors
which led to this present particular perplexing situation:
A once regular Our Girl Sunday Mass/ Legal Seafoods
Lunch Package Deal kind of gal became some defrocked
oyster cracker atheist Irish Catholic who despite wife’s
insistence on paying for what used to be a perhaps
unsterilized coat hanger’s denouement, nixed any further
discussion of even vaguely considering the g-d knows
possibility having an illegal no less mortal sin abortion.
Three months after a real bird in the oven horror show
when the rat-sized newborn plunked out prematurely
during a 9/ 10 pain insanely short two hour back labor,
barely enough time to make it from home to a hospital
where some 12 year-old med student head up her ass
pretended to be a seasoned vet who knew how to deliver
my firstborn while staff scrambled to locate actual docs
then fat like a cow nursing its runt, not talking much,
gaping stretching barely stitched vagina making misery
punting on having sex with his dad, sleepless-depressed,
just at the point I want to get rid of the kid to my mother
(dreamt he threw it in a garbage can like you read about
in the newspaper), Baby begins to smile radiantly at us -
suddenly all is good in the world & our little fur family.
vii. Toot-Tooting My Flute Fugue
-- gracias, Blinky
No Frerejean Freres flutes for
penultimate penthouse parties.
Nada snazzy Sabriözel suits
or defalcated designer dresses.
Dude ‘n dudesses, wez on da
street doing the curbside crawl.
Whose eyes ain’t met down
there squatting apartment stoops?
Is those gov’t GoPros shining
out from shitty sewer grates?
Zoot-bros let loose their pit
bulls then zip guns toward us.
Toppum hood hoodlum hoods,
drink up them side alley scams
or sleazy doorway romance
-- every gutter calls her a pro.
Roadside drugs welcome me;
corner gigolos unmandatory.
Sirens be comin’ for Mama
and still Enrico plays on.
4. TRANSQUEER FUCK MY LIFE 
ii. FX’s POSE: Black Brawls Punchbowl & Ivory Pure Windmills
I'll be down to get you in a taxi honey
You'd better be ready around half past eight
Ah baby don't be late I want to be there
When the band starts honey. -- The Darktown
Strutter's Ball, Shelton Brooks, 1917
Disinvited by 99 44⁄100% rest of your world
which make their living on the street doing
Ovenbird lays her five-spot under a light post
cause that’s where hoodlums or transvestites
ventually find us.
This melancholy clump of battered gay clay
oxymorons, doctors tell me only answer’s,
Have to amputate.
iii. Organ Recital on the Golden Anniversary of a San Francisco Happening
Wind chimes, prayer flags hung from windowsills of the North Beach studio -- this antique’s been massaged here for years by a body language teacher.
The taut rubdown-doctor’s Om and Tibetan bowls shudder my wellspring before I wobble to church for last day of the month’s Old-Timers Lunch.
Though the steeple’s cross is gone, our Buddhist sangha has preserved the fragile harmonium Ginsberg donated to us back during the Vietnam War.
…I was a hapless Stanford Medical School student down in Palo Alto when Allen gave a concert and read poetry alongside Gary Snyder, Michael McClure, Philip Whalen, and Lew Welch at North Lights Book Store where Ferlinghetti passed the hat to bail fellow draft resistors out of jail…
Mindful loving-kindness circle, those of us who no longer lotus, prowess shut down, tilt toward euphony meandering from the rafters.
My half hour’s listless respiring to create now’s present moment, after the bell’s rung, we munch veggies and comfort food while kvetching lists of aches and pains…
Haven’t been well since telling whoever’d listen, “I’ve never felt better,” which too light in the loafers dropped the other oxford, hubrised into barely walking pneumonia…
Delicious things - chugging cheddar, gulping silence and darkness alongside tapioca, licorice, muesli slathered in nectarine - sate me, waylay the pain, bake off night sweats, deep dish draining sinuses while the clock pushes two as it has these three weeks’ downstairsup marasmic contrapuntal fugue rhythm licking vanilla from doorknobs on a dysthymic 'frig treadmill with weird bearded twins, Bin Laden's man al-Zawahiri hand-in-hand with Ginsberg, while a veiled Hamas guy refusing to play harmonium gushes, "Kalpa after kalpa, we Bedouin epicures love hummus more’n Jews.”
Wits spread crunchy as walnut butter in a Petri dish, G-d petrifies I’m allergic, got TB or chopped chicken liver lung - will my woozy anti-body blot out Hezbollah free Ferlinghetti?
Hocked mucusopathy looks like gristle with raw veins: is this yesterday’s blueberry tofu - or plugs of bronchial pulp?
Do you recall when MDs began to advise, Smoke to lose weight? Did Lao-tzu say feed a fever, starve a cold - or the opposite?
Physicians like me don’t know from old wives: did I catch it out with wet hair? Will matzo ball crucibles inoculate flu antigens to chew viruses?
Have you read the New England Journal claim cauldrons of simmering spinach quadruple gamma interferon so goody-goody T-lymphocytes can chomp adenoidal bacteria, maybe HIV?
Monotony my motto, again I pop pills, drip drops, spray inhalers, guzzle awful red stuff, cuddle in bed tenderized in Trumpian torpor with today's overcooked insomnia tormenta -- wait and see.
5. Sharing Mary
RIP William Agee, 5 Jan1938 – 20 Dec 2017*
At Havad College
when I attempted
with no pre-med
studies to get
you were for
a time severed
from The University
when one nun ‘friend’
got caught in flagrante
delicto in a roommate’s bed.”
said, “this male
a necessary ability to
manage his own affairs
no less those needed to get
through Harvard Med School -
let alone help requisite patients
manage profound health affairs.”
* riffing off New York Times obituary 27Dec 2017 which details
this rising-star CEO’s ill-fated affair with subordinate Mary Cunningham
who was pressured to leave Bendix Corp when he was accused of “favoritism.”
Bonus: BDSM haiku
bad day submitting
manuscripts, my post pobiz
Bonus: Identify Crisis Life Line
Gays survive AIDs
gender roles softening
men nursing babies
maybe our generation’s
only plusses so let us
hold off on her frivoles.