7/12/11: 18 years later

For Jon Marshall Greenberg
God is gracious
February 22, 1956 – July 12, 1993

Journal entry, June 2, 1992
This is a holy war. A war in which the physically ill must fight, tooth and nail for control of their own treatment against those who are, quite literally, standing in the way. 

Journal entry, undated, 1992
Don’t assume that I want a cure.

Journal entry, undated, 1992
For those who would ask for news of me: Greetings in love. I know the last temptation is at hand.

Journal entry, June 23, 1992
Please, help my people– these powerful angry and loving faggots and dykes. Please God, I beg of you. Have mercy on my people whom I love so dearly. Let me build a bridge, God, between my people and yourself. 

Journal entry, March 3, 1993
So angry, so angry about being alone. So angry about not being taken care of, about being abandoned. And so, I’m pushing everyone away.

Last Journal entry, April 23, 1993
I need help. I am too isolated. Please help: I accept the end of my isolation. God willing, in your time.


At first you see your dead friend all the time
walking down the street, turning the corner,
slipping just out of reach.

The lights blink during a brownout in summer,
and you think, it’s him. You’ve saved his spinal fluid
in a red decanter, praying to this clear, infectious

fluid, that he demanded to take home from
the doctor’s office because it was his. Then,
one day, dusting the shelf, it drops,

the vessel breaks and spills. You anoint your
head with this fluid, lay a drop smack in the center
of your forehead, a faint bindi,

wondering: is the virus still alive? Years pass
because they have no choice. You ponder this word:
pass. Passage of birth, passing of a loved one,

passing a test, surpassing all expectations,
still wondering, where exactly is he?
You see him everywhere.


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One Response to 7/12/11: 18 years later

  1. Teddy says:

    That’s what I want to know. Where exactly is he?

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