Arcangelini is a keen observer of the natural world, and many of these poems are the verbal equivalent of landscape paintings or still lifes. "Thirteen Lines," "Mt. Diablo," "Uncertainty," and several other poems capture the fragile yet robust beauty of Northern California in language that is both practical and elegant.

Within this natural world of changing seasons, altering phases of the moon, and the destruction wrought by great storms and fires, Arcangelini situates his observations about gay desire. He makes a strong connection between the forces that draw one man to another and the many

Of course, not everyone shares our sense of the simplicity and rightness of our desires. Arcangelini delineates the jarring experiences that all gay people have in common, when the reality of our own lives collides with the heterosexual expectations and assumptions of our families and the larger society. In "The Uncles," he mourns the lack of connection between himself and the uncles who fix up his house once his father dies, and, by implication, the forced separation between all gay and straight men. An especially witty treatment of this theme occurs in the classic poem "To Charlton Heston in Ben-Hur: A Rhapsody." And in "Sine Prole," the simple act of holding a heterosexual friend's baby becomes a vivid metaphor for the distance between himself and his family. Rather than claim an artificial and probably dishonest triumph over the shame induced by such collisions, Arcangelini dissects the voices that tell us we are unworthy, sinful, and sick. The powerful "Triptych: Three Studies for a Portrait of Francis Bacon" is an indictment of the damage done to our culture as well as to individuals when gender tyranny has a free hand. Arcangelini confronts these demons even more forcefully in "Ben's Whips." On one level, this poem is simply about a small group of gay men who are interrupted and threatened by gay bashers in the middle of some open-air S/M. On another level, it is about the work that each of us must do, sometimes daily, to assert that our bodies are good, and our love and sexuality are valuable.

Several of the poems in this volume are unabashedly erotic. Some of my favorites are "Waiting for You," "Trying to Imagine Kissing You," "The Personals Ad," "The Next Night," "Never Met," "My Back Pocket," and "Sex."

Arcangelini brings his sense of rueful good humor to these pieces, and a refreshing earthiness. He also has a sharp word or two for the shortcomings of gay male culture, where "casual" sex often seems so much easier to obtain than an antidote to a deeper loneliness. In "Frankenstein," Arcangelini takes caustic note of his community's obsession with youthful beauty.

Despite all that, he's a hopeless romantic, as poems such as "My Lovers, Your Names," "Smoky Kisses," "More," and "Not Sleeping With You" demonstrate. Anyone who has loved and lost will respond to the way Arcangelini captures the ecstasy and tragedy of being in love. He speaks of his own and others' shortcomings with equal frankness, giving these poems a touching quality of vulnerability.

Of course, no one can speak about the totality of gay male desire without also dealing with AIDS. And these are some of the finest poems in this volume: "Dreams Have More Logic," "Screaming," "The Dead," and "For a Lover with AIDS."Like anyone determined to keep his eyes open and record the truth, Arcangelini has paid a certain price for his clear and independent vision. In poems like "Crazy," "Chemistry Lessons," "Breakdown," and "Finding My Way" he shares (without self-pity) the pain of being an outsider, being forced so far to the fringes that a loss of sanity, or life itself, is a distinct possibility.

WITH FINGERS AT THE TIPS OF MY WORDS is a valuable addition to a growing body of well-written gay male verse which documents our politics, eroticism, life transitions, relationships, institutions, and sense of community.

This work is invaluable. It enriches, arouses, validates, questions, and comforts us. Here's hoping that Arcangelini will find the emotional and material sustenance he needs to enliven gay literature with many other collections of his articulate, sensitive, and careful work.

Patrick Califia is the author of numerous volumes of essays, fiction and poetry, including: Macho Sluts, Melting Point, Doc and Fluff, Public Sex: The Culture of Radical Sex, and Diesel Fuel.