I went to the edge of a cliff sometime last week and thought about jumping. If I were good enough, I'd swim to the top for survival I thought. I couldn't.
After all these moments I gather up inside myself and find that timing is still well, everything. I get it all down in miniature words. I worry that this has become what it is. Without fail, betrayal proves to override my theory. What are we but bodies anyway? So many things, so many each one of us is complex. But we live to survive. Go through it, I think - now I can become someone, else.
Life has a funny way of showing you with each self fulfilled prophecy that the system won't fail you. One plus one will always equal two. Numbers, seems I've been racking up the toxins long before it was waste.
You want to know what gets under my skin for all the wrong reasons but I don't. I want you to trust me, whoever you are, this is not enough. I could say more but somehow I know- it won't matter to you, some.
I consider the pace at which a small snail crawls. Without meaning to I've weighed my options accordingly. Without consequence there is no bravery. Without honesty all else crumbles and I find you: me. I am parting ways with beauty and embracing the body's faults, I fold back unto the self. My body bares marks and scars, some from history that I am learning to face the truth I believe in time, heals. What misery lurks in my eyes is not the death of hir.
My body is broken and I can see this so plainly.
You tell me all that I know- my heart on my sleeve, I am all telling. My face is a voice all it's own. In a glance that is telling "hold on to me but don't love me." In my bed is the memory of what didn't happen to me but the truth conjures up the truth. I learned to recover but I feel nothing that dwells on like this pain. I've created it, this story, in a sense all my fears and my traumas are only imaginary.
My sensibilities covered the sheets. The lies trained my faith to trust in the lacking and all the things- a person can't become. I kept on so ferociously, I never stopped fighting. I started first by tossing it out. But that garbage has no end. I notice that a box contains a lot of stuff but collecting things and confining them are too little space a space to expect that throw will rid me of it. I withdraw and walk away. I am able. I haven't stopped believing, so I strip.
I know that every time I get tripped up on tales, conjured up in my imagination, how unnecessary that was. Confusion. I clear the table and begin again. At the drawing board I see the plot, laid out for me and dried. In my head are the thoughts I'm never saying, I try so hard to not give in. But I want revenge.
The stop I make rids my body of symptoms. Writing's but another symptom I won't give anyone the credit. Whom do I owe my love to but no one, my words here aren't enough. I see words as associations and people in bodies, they get all mixed up. My demons, try as I might, won't be rid of - at least not this lifetime. Regardless of my faults, I am able to continue because I remember. Even when you won't love love exists. It's not tied up or beat down, it's not sexy, only ugly - there's a humble truth in every wall and speak of this seems arbitrary. But I don't want a mess here in this heart, I don't want a cover for my thoughts. I want everything and nothing but I can't help that. If space dictates what is between us only I am at fault for such thoughts which are difficult, times to tell us all the real truth.
train rides to nowhere, choo choo
Steady. Steady. Steady and clean and it's all but
this thing that you create, you don't dream.
I talk myself out of it while winding all around
the mountain tops are tracks laid before us
this time.
I don't want to go there but once you board
that train don't stop here anymore.
I can control this and I know it
my emotions sputtering and brain farts
everything gets blown way out of proportion
when your mind let's go, get's ahead of what's true
wandering
the busy lanes are full of traffic, signs that point
and lead you
no direction
but the one you're looking in is farther than the truth
I let it go, a gasp
a method I learned earlier on in
this non-existant dance career from the very beginning
my teachers told me to focus
I couldn't steady the pace or regulate the breathing
patterns are but a little wonder and once I got the hang of it
my breaths rotate like in my favor, forward motion.
this thing that you create, you don't dream.
I talk myself out of it while winding all around
the mountain tops are tracks laid before us
this time.
I don't want to go there but once you board
that train don't stop here anymore.
I can control this and I know it
my emotions sputtering and brain farts
everything gets blown way out of proportion
when your mind let's go, get's ahead of what's true
wandering
the busy lanes are full of traffic, signs that point
and lead you
no direction
but the one you're looking in is farther than the truth
I let it go, a gasp
a method I learned earlier on in
this non-existant dance career from the very beginning
my teachers told me to focus
I couldn't steady the pace or regulate the breathing
patterns are but a little wonder and once I got the hang of it
my breaths rotate like in my favor, forward motion.
Visitor
The truth is hard to bare,
so much so
that I take it to heart
I collect and bury all the realities
left unto me
piled are the memories
women and...
chatter after the one man
of all the office staff
is standing tall
behind the reception desk
grinning, his stupid grin
waiting
the silence has lasted long enough
for me to scream
but I don't
instead, I wait
and I write
I think about blood and gushing
things that my anger would destroy
I put everything that is killing me
right now into a poem
about your masculinity and male
priviledge
while I wonder why
they care enough
to engage with you
and I imagine
you'll survive to be here a while
I on the other hand go
This is why I left, I think
Alone I am hardly strong enough to
shake you, you confirm this fear
I have to get over- it happened,
you saw me, held the door open
I said "thanks," in my lowest voice
and you proceeded to misunderstand me
I know because I've done it too
before the glare that kills you get nervous
and say "yep," while assessing the threat I hold you to
in my direction you point
the question always is who are you but an outsider?
what are you doing on the inside, what are you
staring at me for, naming me "lesbian," by, belonger
you wish to belong to you your world and I disrupt
the lack of danger suddenly because I don't belong here
you're right, you also don't belong here but you try
so hard to hassle them, because that's your way
and you annoy them, I can see but what scares me most
is that I've been there, hiding behind little girl giggles and
aimless aggression that I shot in your direction
intended, daggers through a healed wound
because I remember
I remember the discomfort and
I can reflect and relocate myself
behind that desk I stood years ago,
adamant about filing my status quo
as female, playing an imagined gender role,
dainty, yet brave, polite and all, yet powerless
scripted and defenseless, she chuckles
make eyes with the older receptionist
she knows, and so do I
but the difference is I can't play up
I won't lie
so she makes nice and I hate him and
next thing you know, I am leaving the office
that remains transphobic
I can't tell you how many times
since I got to New York I've been ladied
and the urge I fought at every chance I had to disagree
but bound I am to honesty, it's clear to me that "GENTLEMEN!"
isn't really going to funk the binary,
I am not here long enough to build the community that
I see so clearly lacking, where are my genderqueers?
Gender-what? you ask, I say "that's me!"
so much so
that I take it to heart
I collect and bury all the realities
left unto me
piled are the memories
women and...
chatter after the one man
of all the office staff
is standing tall
behind the reception desk
grinning, his stupid grin
waiting
the silence has lasted long enough
for me to scream
but I don't
instead, I wait
and I write
I think about blood and gushing
things that my anger would destroy
I put everything that is killing me
right now into a poem
about your masculinity and male
priviledge
while I wonder why
they care enough
to engage with you
and I imagine
you'll survive to be here a while
I on the other hand go
This is why I left, I think
Alone I am hardly strong enough to
shake you, you confirm this fear
I have to get over- it happened,
you saw me, held the door open
I said "thanks," in my lowest voice
and you proceeded to misunderstand me
I know because I've done it too
before the glare that kills you get nervous
and say "yep," while assessing the threat I hold you to
in my direction you point
the question always is who are you but an outsider?
what are you doing on the inside, what are you
staring at me for, naming me "lesbian," by, belonger
you wish to belong to you your world and I disrupt
the lack of danger suddenly because I don't belong here
you're right, you also don't belong here but you try
so hard to hassle them, because that's your way
and you annoy them, I can see but what scares me most
is that I've been there, hiding behind little girl giggles and
aimless aggression that I shot in your direction
intended, daggers through a healed wound
because I remember
I remember the discomfort and
I can reflect and relocate myself
behind that desk I stood years ago,
adamant about filing my status quo
as female, playing an imagined gender role,
dainty, yet brave, polite and all, yet powerless
scripted and defenseless, she chuckles
make eyes with the older receptionist
she knows, and so do I
but the difference is I can't play up
I won't lie
so she makes nice and I hate him and
next thing you know, I am leaving the office
that remains transphobic
I can't tell you how many times
since I got to New York I've been ladied
and the urge I fought at every chance I had to disagree
but bound I am to honesty, it's clear to me that "GENTLEMEN!"
isn't really going to funk the binary,
I am not here long enough to build the community that
I see so clearly lacking, where are my genderqueers?
Gender-what? you ask, I say "that's me!"
Pink and Punked
I've got glitter on my lips and pink punk for hair
With the back of my hand I swipe the color off my mouth
and commit
For hours I planned this
So the eventual follow through-
I lean in and kiss you
I keep my hands away from your unstained face
My thighs are bare and my skin is exposed
It's cold in here
I sit in this kitchen, in this romance, and bask in this affair
I don't glorify the circumstance but thank goodness
for you awaken adjacent to my tireless body in the morning
I lay half asleep and half awake before any signs of leaving
With affection, with your words and routine, you bid me
To rise from slumber and sleep
I roll out of bed with this ungraceful infusion
You meet me somewhere between tongues touching
and an inch apart
My right hand hangs before my fingers are slipped
and we are intertwined
In only months we appropriated each others looks
Communicated in glaces and words
I gaze in your direction and recollect the before, the after
Pressure calls, our tangled limbs and stance, into question our status
The negative esteem imposed on my queer body
from the beginning of time, I learn to assume the worst
and protect myself,
No remorse here, a stone face hides this,
my pitiless pace, my fractured heart beats to my walk
I screen the call
Out from the corner store delivery truck
Screams a stranger disapproval
All your own, fears
but an image, an illusion won't take
you back there, swung your umbrella like a bat
at the circuit box and I'm curious whether or not
"That's beautiful love," as the stranger had told us
We got off on different sides from the same bed this morning
But life has taught us differently about love and such remarks
To me that love exists if only to slip, and then it seeps through me, my polluted veins and inspires my functional brain
At the seams I believe it to bleed onto everything
with every breath I reach, take back and believe this love is my own to keep
I pull my hat (that hangs at my hip) from my belt loop
Lift it over my head and pull the knitting down
I am covering pink ink blots and painted edges at each ear
I think that perhaps [if not for the hair] no one would recognize me
For my hair might be covered, now my hands unattached
"So, you two do really love each other?" he asks me
in the middle of the crowded sidewalk on a busy street
I file my central concerns in cubby holes and closet space
and find all those secrets kept displaced gushing out on me
Spilled thoughts are emotions and finally the paralysis, my body
stays steadfast and still stuck, I am frozen on this sidewalk
As I scramble for the words that won't come naturally
For me to explain this accurately, so I shrug and I scurry
10 feet plus distance have separated me from this man
My legs like my mind start running until I am so far from what love is
That I don't notice it chasing me halfway down the street
The man yells out to me-
"There's nothin' wrong with being in love, you know!"
"I KNOW!" I say, deliberately placed in accordance to my thoughts
So rarely sworn out loud and I know though I hesitate, that it's true
There's no question that I love him
With the back of my hand I swipe the color off my mouth
and commit
For hours I planned this
So the eventual follow through-
I lean in and kiss you
I keep my hands away from your unstained face
My thighs are bare and my skin is exposed
It's cold in here
I sit in this kitchen, in this romance, and bask in this affair
I don't glorify the circumstance but thank goodness
for you awaken adjacent to my tireless body in the morning
I lay half asleep and half awake before any signs of leaving
With affection, with your words and routine, you bid me
To rise from slumber and sleep
I roll out of bed with this ungraceful infusion
You meet me somewhere between tongues touching
and an inch apart
My right hand hangs before my fingers are slipped
and we are intertwined
In only months we appropriated each others looks
Communicated in glaces and words
I gaze in your direction and recollect the before, the after
Pressure calls, our tangled limbs and stance, into question our status
The negative esteem imposed on my queer body
from the beginning of time, I learn to assume the worst
and protect myself,
No remorse here, a stone face hides this,
my pitiless pace, my fractured heart beats to my walk
I screen the call
Out from the corner store delivery truck
Screams a stranger disapproval
All your own, fears
but an image, an illusion won't take
you back there, swung your umbrella like a bat
at the circuit box and I'm curious whether or not
"That's beautiful love," as the stranger had told us
We got off on different sides from the same bed this morning
But life has taught us differently about love and such remarks
To me that love exists if only to slip, and then it seeps through me, my polluted veins and inspires my functional brain
At the seams I believe it to bleed onto everything
with every breath I reach, take back and believe this love is my own to keep
I pull my hat (that hangs at my hip) from my belt loop
Lift it over my head and pull the knitting down
I am covering pink ink blots and painted edges at each ear
I think that perhaps [if not for the hair] no one would recognize me
For my hair might be covered, now my hands unattached
"So, you two do really love each other?" he asks me
in the middle of the crowded sidewalk on a busy street
I file my central concerns in cubby holes and closet space
and find all those secrets kept displaced gushing out on me
Spilled thoughts are emotions and finally the paralysis, my body
stays steadfast and still stuck, I am frozen on this sidewalk
As I scramble for the words that won't come naturally
For me to explain this accurately, so I shrug and I scurry
10 feet plus distance have separated me from this man
My legs like my mind start running until I am so far from what love is
That I don't notice it chasing me halfway down the street
The man yells out to me-
"There's nothin' wrong with being in love, you know!"
"I KNOW!" I say, deliberately placed in accordance to my thoughts
So rarely sworn out loud and I know though I hesitate, that it's true
There's no question that I love him
As though I love you
I'll listen to your stories
like my boyfriend's no matter
Clutch you in my arms
pet your hair
make you feel
better
I'll smile, nod your way
hold your hand
pay no matter
treat you gold
heart your name
come in to please you
like no other
When he leaves it's like
woah
what's the matter
when I choose what to you
when he's gone
it's like
rather
not pay you no mind
the phone rings
when you call
i'm like
princess, giddy stupid
girl
squeal, smile, all raveled
in laughter
don't you see
I don't mind
talk on
because my hearts sailin
on
a rafter.
like my boyfriend's no matter
Clutch you in my arms
pet your hair
make you feel
better
I'll smile, nod your way
hold your hand
pay no matter
treat you gold
heart your name
come in to please you
like no other
When he leaves it's like
woah
what's the matter
when I choose what to you
when he's gone
it's like
rather
not pay you no mind
the phone rings
when you call
i'm like
princess, giddy stupid
girl
squeal, smile, all raveled
in laughter
don't you see
I don't mind
talk on
because my hearts sailin
on
a rafter.
small slip
i am just a stain
a memory
you accidentally slip
me in your pocket
like emory
i start to fade
a memory
you accidentally slip
me in your pocket
like emory
i start to fade
The Frick of Frack
"Sorry," she says, like I've heard it before I choose not to engage.
This rifts her in mind, into turmoil
She screams, "I AM SORRY!"
My dear, shhhh.
I wish to hold her, in her arms she carries
Stories of long drunken nights and circles of close friends
Too close
So close and so high, we think it will solve everything
Dissolve boundaries of our bodies walls
Binding our lives and burning our fleshes, wrists
Arm out
Scars swallowed in laughter
We take it all back
Come back, she winces
She gets it together
In a story, she recalls
"Remember, the night we didn't need no one."
High hopes and bronze dreams
Blown deep into three keys
Obvious it is to me now
More than those aimless nights
Lesser pain, and violence
Quiet, quiet moments
Heighten the senses
And logic, look what it got us
"I'm sorry," calmly she clutches
At her sternum, she rubs
Her chest concaves
and relief
There's still that, we have this
No reason to apologize, I warn her
Breathe. You will be fine.
This rifts her in mind, into turmoil
She screams, "I AM SORRY!"
My dear, shhhh.
I wish to hold her, in her arms she carries
Stories of long drunken nights and circles of close friends
Too close
So close and so high, we think it will solve everything
Dissolve boundaries of our bodies walls
Binding our lives and burning our fleshes, wrists
Arm out
Scars swallowed in laughter
We take it all back
Come back, she winces
She gets it together
In a story, she recalls
"Remember, the night we didn't need no one."
High hopes and bronze dreams
Blown deep into three keys
Obvious it is to me now
More than those aimless nights
Lesser pain, and violence
Quiet, quiet moments
Heighten the senses
And logic, look what it got us
"I'm sorry," calmly she clutches
At her sternum, she rubs
Her chest concaves
and relief
There's still that, we have this
No reason to apologize, I warn her
Breathe. You will be fine.
NOthings
Things like people,
not easy to quit
Cigarettes?
I've got to.
But you,
I wouldn't.
So, I resort
Back to product
The wasteland
of cosmetics.
Red lipstick
Paint my lips, red
like a facade
I take substance, my place
And drink
Liquor in one hand and
with the other
chain smoke
Now my pallet is stained
Things cloud my vision
I will endure this
til I can't forget,
I've got to.
Sustain, I'm still standing
On my feet, tall are the piles of things
I am in ruins,
in my body
My lungs contract in threes,
short breaths,
and my chest aches.
And I miss you.
Won't you return
I'm not clear-headed,
my mind,
are these things
No, logic
for those that are.
The real, the true,
and deep.
Impassioned-
blind affairs.
I'll clip my cigarette
Like a bloody habit
Babies,
I meant it-
I will, love.
To be good, again,
I'll go there.
not easy to quit
Cigarettes?
I've got to.
But you,
I wouldn't.
So, I resort
Back to product
The wasteland
of cosmetics.
Red lipstick
Paint my lips, red
like a facade
I take substance, my place
And drink
Liquor in one hand and
with the other
chain smoke
Now my pallet is stained
Things cloud my vision
I will endure this
til I can't forget,
I've got to.
Sustain, I'm still standing
On my feet, tall are the piles of things
I am in ruins,
in my body
My lungs contract in threes,
short breaths,
and my chest aches.
And I miss you.
Won't you return
I'm not clear-headed,
my mind,
are these things
No, logic
for those that are.
The real, the true,
and deep.
Impassioned-
blind affairs.
I'll clip my cigarette
Like a bloody habit
Babies,
I meant it-
I will, love.
To be good, again,
I'll go there.
It is
It is what it is and this it is not:
I want, I want, I want
Escapism: Desires, confusion, passion
Ate riddles, mixed beats
To create my own rhythm
The search for love
Journey to:
The value of a life
That is not monetary
Likeness:
Does not result in measurements
Nor poke at the souls
With our yardsticks
Created distance
My heart: is a bottomless pit
To keep: the heart
From growing, in time
I am fonder
Don't care for: Quantity
For goodness sake,
I am not interested in learning
who to be
In being: Proactive
I just want to be
loving
Is: Quality
Desolate, barriers,
buildings on top of ignorance
Piles: self worth
not helpless,
pities won-
if deserted on this island,
I am not alone
Self Recognition:
The want to be
Good
Grown
and into several
powers and wit
All the while: Stronger
still stumbles,
still stone.
I want, I want, I want
Escapism: Desires, confusion, passion
Ate riddles, mixed beats
To create my own rhythm
The search for love
Journey to:
The value of a life
That is not monetary
Likeness:
Does not result in measurements
Nor poke at the souls
With our yardsticks
Created distance
My heart: is a bottomless pit
To keep: the heart
From growing, in time
I am fonder
Don't care for: Quantity
For goodness sake,
I am not interested in learning
who to be
In being: Proactive
I just want to be
loving
Is: Quality
Desolate, barriers,
buildings on top of ignorance
Piles: self worth
not helpless,
pities won-
if deserted on this island,
I am not alone
Self Recognition:
The want to be
Good
Grown
and into several
powers and wit
All the while: Stronger
still stumbles,
still stone.
empty
I reach for another
if only it could fix
this
memory: two days older
If only I could taste
The sweetness that first settled
Sour now
in back of my throat
Are the words I choke back
The emotions catch, rapid fire
Many more breaths to heal this
Countless before control
Consciousness is ridiculed
effort.
Monday I quit, you
encourage me to be strong
Relentless
I chew at my cheeks
over hours of restless sleep
I am considering
Batted eye-lashes
and a curl
The hips sink in deep
Tongue cheeked-
thrust in anger
like little poems
Contemplated slow,
small, deaths
In every little act
Violence
It acts like an intrusion
Sickle celled blood
Trans-
fusion
History
makes the moments meet
All between the memories of yesterdays
And tomorrow, I will bleed
You will take what I give of you
Throw back to me
The honest words anchoring
Beside me
I do not sleep
Peacefully, wishing for the simpler
days
Linger on
Growing shorter
Dreams which recollect a telling
placed strategically in my site-
lines
Where things like words you gave
Replace you in time
Imaginary
Speak easy now that I know
You, in real time,
won't dote on me.
But linger like pins and needles,
in a hot flash
gone.
if only it could fix
this
memory: two days older
If only I could taste
The sweetness that first settled
Sour now
in back of my throat
Are the words I choke back
The emotions catch, rapid fire
Many more breaths to heal this
Countless before control
Consciousness is ridiculed
effort.
Monday I quit, you
encourage me to be strong
Relentless
I chew at my cheeks
over hours of restless sleep
I am considering
Batted eye-lashes
and a curl
The hips sink in deep
Tongue cheeked-
thrust in anger
like little poems
Contemplated slow,
small, deaths
In every little act
Violence
It acts like an intrusion
Sickle celled blood
Trans-
fusion
History
makes the moments meet
All between the memories of yesterdays
And tomorrow, I will bleed
You will take what I give of you
Throw back to me
The honest words anchoring
Beside me
I do not sleep
Peacefully, wishing for the simpler
days
Linger on
Growing shorter
Dreams which recollect a telling
placed strategically in my site-
lines
Where things like words you gave
Replace you in time
Imaginary
Speak easy now that I know
You, in real time,
won't dote on me.
But linger like pins and needles,
in a hot flash
gone.
The Tongue [of love]
These aren't the kinds of matters, ours aren't the least fragile of hearts
So to give in and say in love is in vain,
what spills from our wrists when we touch
must come out of our mouths, for each other to welcome in the open canals
That we hear, not the screaming for the sake of something else
We lean before we leave, a moment it takes to agree to trust each other
We create this room all the time, we have now, we decide how and give space
to say or not say
You are stranger on the street, I am speechless without a thing to say
I don't doubt his love for me, with caution for words move forward
We grow more loving this I know because I feel what I know and need not say
Because what language is there for love but love anyway?
So to give in and say in love is in vain,
what spills from our wrists when we touch
must come out of our mouths, for each other to welcome in the open canals
That we hear, not the screaming for the sake of something else
We lean before we leave, a moment it takes to agree to trust each other
We create this room all the time, we have now, we decide how and give space
to say or not say
You are stranger on the street, I am speechless without a thing to say
I don't doubt his love for me, with caution for words move forward
We grow more loving this I know because I feel what I know and need not say
Because what language is there for love but love anyway?
twice your elder, big your heart
a whittle poem for why not?
Wildflower, golden, ripe is the
sun, bustling
boiling over my cold heartache
(from sometime last summer)
though the feeling is familiar,
what was once cutting edge and just
shattered
my eyes glimmering, blinking to my heart-
beat, more than years and counting
Wildflower, golden, ripe is the
sun, bustling
boiling over my cold heartache
(from sometime last summer)
though the feeling is familiar,
what was once cutting edge and just
shattered
my eyes glimmering, blinking to my heart-
beat, more than years and counting
if i could (t-mic speak out)
maybe i would say:
if i were someone else,
perhaps it'd be easier to speak out
if only the words spoke easy
and time were infinite spans of short
but only you know of this voice
worth speaking up it comes out, in,
three short breaths cause i have not
yet found the tone
dial up, spark it
this rooms all stale, a cigars musk
won't leave this room
on lanterns or in a hurry
i don't do the "what i was worth" dance off
instead i tip toe, gracefully towards the door
if i were someone else,
perhaps it'd be easier to speak out
if only the words spoke easy
and time were infinite spans of short
but only you know of this voice
worth speaking up it comes out, in,
three short breaths cause i have not
yet found the tone
dial up, spark it
this rooms all stale, a cigars musk
won't leave this room
on lanterns or in a hurry
i don't do the "what i was worth" dance off
instead i tip toe, gracefully towards the door
Otherwise September 23, 2007
23/9/07
I like the silence between us
I like the silence between us
The desolate space hangs
in filthy air, it hits my leg
I watch the cherry turn to ashes
How often single units turn
to multiple
Just like people
We divide and force the
things we carry home
by distributing what we
think,
How we feel
And we share it,
who we are.
who we are.
feelin, achin, clenching: prior a 3 martini-full, self-fulfilled, Fantasy
my body stressed out
all ideas lost unto you
but i know better than to submit
myself to drowning
in the five glasses of water
you left me - half full
abundance? no,
trust
in you
you will not stay, you will go
you are no different
to me
i've downed every drop
yet, the h2O reminisces
the glass is part empty, still-
life is mine to call whole
you come back around
for the next round and
again, it's last call
relinquishing any doubt
the present moments my own
to claim this glass- half full
all ideas lost unto you
but i know better than to submit
myself to drowning
in the five glasses of water
you left me - half full
abundance? no,
trust
in you
you will not stay, you will go
you are no different
to me
i've downed every drop
yet, the h2O reminisces
the glass is part empty, still-
life is mine to call whole
you come back around
for the next round and
again, it's last call
relinquishing any doubt
the present moments my own
to claim this glass- half full
chosen ones
so we choose to engage
soliciting the gifts we bring
sage to place on the alter, we even joke to entertain the joker,
we promise to line the closets before selling
our gifts, we offer perfume scents of glory and mysticism
stories that we will never live
for life is but one sit in, once the chance passed
gone
so we make an agreement and we settle
that's that, i suffocate on the arid fresh
my freedoms won, condensed
upon sheer faith for the altruistic
annul the pessimist and believe
that this one i can get on
this wagons got a string and i'm the only one carrying
on responsible engine, exhaust
soliciting the gifts we bring
sage to place on the alter, we even joke to entertain the joker,
we promise to line the closets before selling
our gifts, we offer perfume scents of glory and mysticism
stories that we will never live
for life is but one sit in, once the chance passed
gone
so we make an agreement and we settle
that's that, i suffocate on the arid fresh
my freedoms won, condensed
upon sheer faith for the altruistic
annul the pessimist and believe
that this one i can get on
this wagons got a string and i'm the only one carrying
on responsible engine, exhaust
fragile, fractures, fixings
hands are delicate these days
rough at the surface, rigid edges
i'd never known it to be like this
i never know you to feel so good
be so real
tender moments precious are these
to consciously see the beauty is everything
no longer beat
over head backwards
what are these things i can't possibly seem
lovable, lovingly, enough
but they turn to remind me, in turn
sheds my doubt
but what are these to succumb to
if not you, if not me.
rough at the surface, rigid edges
i'd never known it to be like this
i never know you to feel so good
be so real
tender moments precious are these
to consciously see the beauty is everything
no longer beat
over head backwards
what are these things i can't possibly seem
lovable, lovingly, enough
but they turn to remind me, in turn
sheds my doubt
but what are these to succumb to
if not you, if not me.
I'm okay.
"Hi," I say again. After we exchange hellos I ask, "How are you?"
"Fine," he says but he doesn't look so fine.
And it's been almost a whole week since I last saw him.
And he probably thinks little of this entire situation.
He's probably had a bad day and it just got worse.
Now me? "Honestly [?] kinda miserable," without thinking at all
About the words we already exchanged is the question I ask again "How are you?"
I stare into the distance, beyond his left shoulder and over
Beyond the future streets, road blocks, whatever it was
Behind lots of parked cars, beneath blown lamps
Once covered tree branches now bare they drop leaves and
Management left the building grounds cluttered
And now like you and me, like this line
and cracks separate is this cement block of sidewalk adjacent
There you stand on like a river
Like traffic we take signals as demands.
"I gotta go," suddenly I heard him
So lost in the distance that I forgot you the one minutes I was close again
But like the leaves I am catching on again to be reborn of the ground
I was already taken aback, stuck in gusts
The wind picked me up and carried me safely
Above us, our slow deaths, my laughter and your smiling
Which I so badly want to forget.
Blown over, fall to pieces and been there done that.
I wish you;d remind me, remember.
We knew nothing but trust in this anyhow.
"Fine," he says but he doesn't look so fine.
And it's been almost a whole week since I last saw him.
And he probably thinks little of this entire situation.
He's probably had a bad day and it just got worse.
Now me? "Honestly [?] kinda miserable," without thinking at all
About the words we already exchanged is the question I ask again "How are you?"
I stare into the distance, beyond his left shoulder and over
Beyond the future streets, road blocks, whatever it was
Behind lots of parked cars, beneath blown lamps
Once covered tree branches now bare they drop leaves and
Management left the building grounds cluttered
And now like you and me, like this line
and cracks separate is this cement block of sidewalk adjacent
There you stand on like a river
Like traffic we take signals as demands.
"I gotta go," suddenly I heard him
So lost in the distance that I forgot you the one minutes I was close again
But like the leaves I am catching on again to be reborn of the ground
I was already taken aback, stuck in gusts
The wind picked me up and carried me safely
Above us, our slow deaths, my laughter and your smiling
Which I so badly want to forget.
Blown over, fall to pieces and been there done that.
I wish you;d remind me, remember.
We knew nothing but trust in this anyhow.
carved wood, paper cranes, and armors for love
I can't change the world for you, my love
Can't even carve a bird from wood
Never mind you, all those crazy ways I've thought of
For you it does change- how the world, wants your back
To stay the same means beauty and something you are not
means chains to borders, blinders and all other above
but you are not
the most beautiful, you are standing there before me
sheepish, humored, and armored
for this reason love, I cannot change your mind
For you it does change the world watches closely as your back
to face and change
we stay the same to clarify the beauty here
is something i cannot bare
for you i wish the stars would light the way
through the clearing, you have made way on a path
but i know too well that you will have to carry this
through and through so long that soon
try to forget me to go after who you want
what you need and wait it out, until when
tomorrow it will get better and i get well
running on this energy i'm drowning
in this shallow pond
i pull my sails from the oceans, wading
carved out small boats and set them up
For you it does change
the world, wants your back
to stay the same means beauty and
something you are not
i wish i didn't want to ask
i don't mind whether you will come back
Grace us, let us, hold me in your arms - only time can recover all things rough, skin torn away from flesh. i cannot protect you from this paper crane
i am just a small change, waiting.
cooed love cause birds are only simple things
i cannot bare the thought, the world beating down on you
For you it does change
the world, wants your back
to stay the same means beauty and
something you are not
while all the while my heart keeps skipping
with every step made towards the door
without a hand to help me weave
untangled aren't the words
you left once time failed me without
you're gracefully repeating this
For you it does change
the world, wants your back
to stay the same means beauty and
something you are not
You are not so beautiful you cannot
please yourself and I can't pull you out
make you change the ways of which you navigate
pressure onto yourself
heavy weights are waiting on you
to be lifted off, you're back
and all the miniatures i gifted you were not of help
you cannot fight the bravest bull or make untamed animals manageable
my bounds are breaking, this is the breach
i could not hope for anyone more beautiful than you
Can't even carve a bird from wood
Never mind you, all those crazy ways I've thought of
For you it does change- how the world, wants your back
To stay the same means beauty and something you are not
means chains to borders, blinders and all other above
but you are not
the most beautiful, you are standing there before me
sheepish, humored, and armored
for this reason love, I cannot change your mind
For you it does change the world watches closely as your back
to face and change
we stay the same to clarify the beauty here
is something i cannot bare
for you i wish the stars would light the way
through the clearing, you have made way on a path
but i know too well that you will have to carry this
through and through so long that soon
try to forget me to go after who you want
what you need and wait it out, until when
tomorrow it will get better and i get well
running on this energy i'm drowning
in this shallow pond
i pull my sails from the oceans, wading
carved out small boats and set them up
For you it does change
the world, wants your back
to stay the same means beauty and
something you are not
i wish i didn't want to ask
i don't mind whether you will come back
Grace us, let us, hold me in your arms - only time can recover all things rough, skin torn away from flesh. i cannot protect you from this paper crane
i am just a small change, waiting.
cooed love cause birds are only simple things
i cannot bare the thought, the world beating down on you
For you it does change
the world, wants your back
to stay the same means beauty and
something you are not
while all the while my heart keeps skipping
with every step made towards the door
without a hand to help me weave
untangled aren't the words
you left once time failed me without
you're gracefully repeating this
For you it does change
the world, wants your back
to stay the same means beauty and
something you are not
You are not so beautiful you cannot
please yourself and I can't pull you out
make you change the ways of which you navigate
pressure onto yourself
heavy weights are waiting on you
to be lifted off, you're back
and all the miniatures i gifted you were not of help
you cannot fight the bravest bull or make untamed animals manageable
my bounds are breaking, this is the breach
i could not hope for anyone more beautiful than you
Clouds, zero guilt, face down to the ground
I am relearning my body. I am visualizing the days spent agonizing in shallow clouds that surrendered to my lower half and creeped in on me. My feet stay grounded despite thick of it, crawling the negative space and I am itching at my bare skin. Across the bed sheets my entire body lingers still in awe of you and, what trust you have recovered from me. Despair covers me all over this, I fear not anything that bends back and outside of this, I am layers thick and a full figured body fit to fill your mold. I stray far from familiarities of my past identities and sit back in me, in your parlor for the in between. I won't leave.
I play a rendition of the Old Crow Medicine Show's "Wagon Wheel," feeling my heavy weigh in on the mattress, palms sweep the rear of the bedframe and I am listening. "Ain't goin back, living that old life no more." It is true. Once the experience was had I hadn't thought of not going back, and now I know old there is no return trip ticket for me. I am loving your influence and for the first time I find what love means for me. And I love this - I hesitate to say it but I love you.
Inside your many walls, beside you several histories, our multiple selves come crashing in the form of looming fairytales, fantasies, and fancy reminiscing. I tell panicked stories out of nerve but I know better than to talk myself out of this. You steal the poison, kiss old wounds, rid my body of the mind wretched toxic influence - with sex they've created love of rotten illusion and with you I've remastered sensation for all that's worth. You look and I see you see me, I trust you so much so I go there and I make promise to myself in whispers throughout tonight that I will go there with you always, I am excited.
I am nervous as we strap the final dressings to this genderbendered of a body, your creation for me. You take what I'm given and come screaming out for the fucks of me. I am in awe of you boy - all I never dreamed I'd meet and everything forgiven. Shhh, secrets not and lust and luck and love never taken aback, nor taken for-granted.
I play a rendition of the Old Crow Medicine Show's "Wagon Wheel," feeling my heavy weigh in on the mattress, palms sweep the rear of the bedframe and I am listening. "Ain't goin back, living that old life no more." It is true. Once the experience was had I hadn't thought of not going back, and now I know old there is no return trip ticket for me. I am loving your influence and for the first time I find what love means for me. And I love this - I hesitate to say it but I love you.
Inside your many walls, beside you several histories, our multiple selves come crashing in the form of looming fairytales, fantasies, and fancy reminiscing. I tell panicked stories out of nerve but I know better than to talk myself out of this. You steal the poison, kiss old wounds, rid my body of the mind wretched toxic influence - with sex they've created love of rotten illusion and with you I've remastered sensation for all that's worth. You look and I see you see me, I trust you so much so I go there and I make promise to myself in whispers throughout tonight that I will go there with you always, I am excited.
I am nervous as we strap the final dressings to this genderbendered of a body, your creation for me. You take what I'm given and come screaming out for the fucks of me. I am in awe of you boy - all I never dreamed I'd meet and everything forgiven. Shhh, secrets not and lust and luck and love never taken aback, nor taken for-granted.
happy coming out day! (raw draft)
queer.
she is small frames on the 14th day of wearing the same pair of 2 week disposable contact lenses. when i look at this face i see it's full and functional, abrupt and paranoid, enraged and on fire, or most lately, inspired and distracted but always, always - this face is alive as though it was always born today with the dawn rising reason, giving me home. this is kate i'm referring to. most day's she is entertained as he calls the shots and corrects my bigotry and i boast onward as though it never matters, i got her - my best friend in chicago. if someone told me that this would be the one person i could count on everyday, in anyhow, at anytime- that i would practically be living with her, breathing the same night air, stepping into the same freezing lake at the end of september, 10 minute walking distance in either direction home.
i could ever imagine knowing now, caring for, the complexity of what i felt for what i couldn't deal with at the time really derailed me. my sense of belief for relationships had withered person by person, the she's of that time we strung along the waste lines for a good while. the urgency i felt to confine and define our relationships is was made that split in the first place. over time the rigid boundaries that separate the present and the past, we are distanced further from the actual event and suddenly all that's left are snippits that we use trace over blurred edges in our minds what was describe from memory as a means to call the ends. the enemy, immediate friend, soul mate, straight-ally, cisgendered male, female born male identified, transguy, he-she, prospective lover, genderqueer, queer, I try now to assume I know none of these are neither correct nor uncorrect each time i meet you.
we are not translucent, fixed, individual, apparent people. our identities are fluid and therefore completely transparent to the naked eye. we have many options and see our choices differently. open to this and this will make you queerer.
i remember the first time i felt something for someone that i was not suppose to feel something so deeply for. i remember this so intimately now because queerness so close to everything I've come to know and have and am to just be - it invades the best of friendships and now binds me in to form the most relentless and mutual relationships. this jars me because it is constant, i am not use to consistency alone but now i am spending my days living, the queer surround me all the time, i bring queer everywhere i go because that is what i demand of myself and this i do to survive queer life with out restraint. i have to put myself and my words out so forcefully or it creates a mess of things later to gut out. i conditioned myself to fit in, to mold, to map onto the ways i thought i had to be in order to be loved by somebody. this always failed me- this method always fails.
in the past my loves ate me, chewed me up, spit me out, sniffed later at the curiosity of my distortion and walked on with or without me should i choose to get up and continue or let them leave. i did not respect myself. over the years in relationship to relationship onto the next failed anything that wasn't worthy of calling a relationship. i learned to let my head get away from what was actually happening with me, the actual events i experienced and live in my body - i reconciled the events of things past, present, i recreate constant illusion. i came to feel the things that i loved that i had completely, single offhandedly made up and that, was a lot of work. keeping it real was tough because i was never really alive for myself in this way.
i've always been queer but god how to begin to define this - it is not so simple. and it's not simple to live queer either but it's faith, it's consistent, it's real, honest and sensational. to me queer is obviously as the term finds vague understanding in the mainstream and that's exactly it. it is not mainstream it is marginal, it is not popular it is outcast and outcast and living on the outskirts of what "normal," meaning- mainstream people who live by the law, by the cut outs predetermined to their hetersexual partners in there neatly crafted life. it fits, it's known, it's comfortable, it's so not queer. this is fine. several people live their lives forever happy and in love with that they've been handed or what they were driven to achieve and do fine with that are deserving of what they've received - but i don't know very many mainstreamers out there that are comfortable or satisfied in that. i know a lot of queers and they're always satisfied or working through it and getting to it - we're never just sitting, waiting, obligating ourselves or society to define us. we're too busy living, or trying to at least. it's not easy being queer because it means going against what we're traditionally taught to become and that forces us to recongize and reconsider ourselves in relationship to every single other. it's the actual going against it that takes courage, you can know something you're whole life and not do a damn thing about it but that's not queer and it's no fun.
i guess i'm coming to losely define queerness as openness. it means to me living freely in what seems unconventional, it's a life that is practical - i say that's queer and i mean that's a lot of love for a lot of difference and in this i notice, for my immediate family, as we like to call ourselves (i am refering to my queer family here) life is oddly different, struggle is a large part of our functioning and i mean consistently. we are always processing, always voicing, always challenging, always always always. we go through it together, we're queer. we love each other and we trust that - something it is enough. there's little need to cut out the shapes and circles of ourselves because growing up and surviving normality already did that to us until we found ourselves here, scrapped together and misshaped as hell, we came from all angles at ourselves and pieced what we could of what we've recovered never knowing if tomorrow it will work but we respect that. we say hey, you want to come in, come come be in this space, share with us, talk, help, love - family. it's queer, it's really really queer but let's not get too far from the purpose because this really isn't all that radical. it shouldn't be radical, respect, courage, love, trust, these are all included in my relationship to each one of these relatives - apart or together, it's there and we talk about that. it makes loving yourself and knowing love exists accessible. it turns away from the restraints that objectification and unreal subjects of which as humans we've socially trained thoughts and ourselves to co-exist as follows. but we don't follow suit, not ideologically. we certainly wear all types of suits, nevermind you what gender says our body says what your teacher explained to be true about sex because that's irrelevant really. from the inside to the deepest depths and beyond anything outside because even with that you are familiar, it is queer - to live outside of anything and love anyone and trust in the possibility of all that's existing. it seems so boring but it's true and it's exciting to wake up every morning, i have reason to look forward now knowing i'm queer and share in this ambiguous acceptance with and of other queers.
i watch the hand that strums. and see the ways necessity reconciled all that for me, time and trust gave me room to accept and adjust accordingly. i gave myself permission to ask, to tell, be real, we continue coming back individual, with love unconditional and a sincere hope, this go we're in it together. ballad after ballad i watch both hands working, i retrace our history across all that song records. in the voice, the words chosen long ago, and chords once picked carefully come now effortlessly against the past of life with which fingertips and heartache brushed and pushed away in us. yes this is my friend who held my hand intimately and knew better than to keep holding on, briefly i held tight before letting go and now we've let go of all of that, the broken and weighty, the heavy of history are stuck in the past for me today the symbol for us is not clearly laid down or easily defined. i did not imagine four years later this would be a hand hold, a friendloverfriend, the partner with whom i've made a family, a queer centric relationship alas, my everyday wake up all, my reminder of what wasn't what i won't know will ever be unless there comes the words of family, encouragement and worth pursuing.
she is small frames on the 14th day of wearing the same pair of 2 week disposable contact lenses. when i look at this face i see it's full and functional, abrupt and paranoid, enraged and on fire, or most lately, inspired and distracted but always, always - this face is alive as though it was always born today with the dawn rising reason, giving me home. this is kate i'm referring to. most day's she is entertained as he calls the shots and corrects my bigotry and i boast onward as though it never matters, i got her - my best friend in chicago. if someone told me that this would be the one person i could count on everyday, in anyhow, at anytime- that i would practically be living with her, breathing the same night air, stepping into the same freezing lake at the end of september, 10 minute walking distance in either direction home.
i could ever imagine knowing now, caring for, the complexity of what i felt for what i couldn't deal with at the time really derailed me. my sense of belief for relationships had withered person by person, the she's of that time we strung along the waste lines for a good while. the urgency i felt to confine and define our relationships is was made that split in the first place. over time the rigid boundaries that separate the present and the past, we are distanced further from the actual event and suddenly all that's left are snippits that we use trace over blurred edges in our minds what was describe from memory as a means to call the ends. the enemy, immediate friend, soul mate, straight-ally, cisgendered male, female born male identified, transguy, he-she, prospective lover, genderqueer, queer, I try now to assume I know none of these are neither correct nor uncorrect each time i meet you.
we are not translucent, fixed, individual, apparent people. our identities are fluid and therefore completely transparent to the naked eye. we have many options and see our choices differently. open to this and this will make you queerer.
i remember the first time i felt something for someone that i was not suppose to feel something so deeply for. i remember this so intimately now because queerness so close to everything I've come to know and have and am to just be - it invades the best of friendships and now binds me in to form the most relentless and mutual relationships. this jars me because it is constant, i am not use to consistency alone but now i am spending my days living, the queer surround me all the time, i bring queer everywhere i go because that is what i demand of myself and this i do to survive queer life with out restraint. i have to put myself and my words out so forcefully or it creates a mess of things later to gut out. i conditioned myself to fit in, to mold, to map onto the ways i thought i had to be in order to be loved by somebody. this always failed me- this method always fails.
in the past my loves ate me, chewed me up, spit me out, sniffed later at the curiosity of my distortion and walked on with or without me should i choose to get up and continue or let them leave. i did not respect myself. over the years in relationship to relationship onto the next failed anything that wasn't worthy of calling a relationship. i learned to let my head get away from what was actually happening with me, the actual events i experienced and live in my body - i reconciled the events of things past, present, i recreate constant illusion. i came to feel the things that i loved that i had completely, single offhandedly made up and that, was a lot of work. keeping it real was tough because i was never really alive for myself in this way.
i've always been queer but god how to begin to define this - it is not so simple. and it's not simple to live queer either but it's faith, it's consistent, it's real, honest and sensational. to me queer is obviously as the term finds vague understanding in the mainstream and that's exactly it. it is not mainstream it is marginal, it is not popular it is outcast and outcast and living on the outskirts of what "normal," meaning- mainstream people who live by the law, by the cut outs predetermined to their hetersexual partners in there neatly crafted life. it fits, it's known, it's comfortable, it's so not queer. this is fine. several people live their lives forever happy and in love with that they've been handed or what they were driven to achieve and do fine with that are deserving of what they've received - but i don't know very many mainstreamers out there that are comfortable or satisfied in that. i know a lot of queers and they're always satisfied or working through it and getting to it - we're never just sitting, waiting, obligating ourselves or society to define us. we're too busy living, or trying to at least. it's not easy being queer because it means going against what we're traditionally taught to become and that forces us to recongize and reconsider ourselves in relationship to every single other. it's the actual going against it that takes courage, you can know something you're whole life and not do a damn thing about it but that's not queer and it's no fun.
i guess i'm coming to losely define queerness as openness. it means to me living freely in what seems unconventional, it's a life that is practical - i say that's queer and i mean that's a lot of love for a lot of difference and in this i notice, for my immediate family, as we like to call ourselves (i am refering to my queer family here) life is oddly different, struggle is a large part of our functioning and i mean consistently. we are always processing, always voicing, always challenging, always always always. we go through it together, we're queer. we love each other and we trust that - something it is enough. there's little need to cut out the shapes and circles of ourselves because growing up and surviving normality already did that to us until we found ourselves here, scrapped together and misshaped as hell, we came from all angles at ourselves and pieced what we could of what we've recovered never knowing if tomorrow it will work but we respect that. we say hey, you want to come in, come come be in this space, share with us, talk, help, love - family. it's queer, it's really really queer but let's not get too far from the purpose because this really isn't all that radical. it shouldn't be radical, respect, courage, love, trust, these are all included in my relationship to each one of these relatives - apart or together, it's there and we talk about that. it makes loving yourself and knowing love exists accessible. it turns away from the restraints that objectification and unreal subjects of which as humans we've socially trained thoughts and ourselves to co-exist as follows. but we don't follow suit, not ideologically. we certainly wear all types of suits, nevermind you what gender says our body says what your teacher explained to be true about sex because that's irrelevant really. from the inside to the deepest depths and beyond anything outside because even with that you are familiar, it is queer - to live outside of anything and love anyone and trust in the possibility of all that's existing. it seems so boring but it's true and it's exciting to wake up every morning, i have reason to look forward now knowing i'm queer and share in this ambiguous acceptance with and of other queers.
i watch the hand that strums. and see the ways necessity reconciled all that for me, time and trust gave me room to accept and adjust accordingly. i gave myself permission to ask, to tell, be real, we continue coming back individual, with love unconditional and a sincere hope, this go we're in it together. ballad after ballad i watch both hands working, i retrace our history across all that song records. in the voice, the words chosen long ago, and chords once picked carefully come now effortlessly against the past of life with which fingertips and heartache brushed and pushed away in us. yes this is my friend who held my hand intimately and knew better than to keep holding on, briefly i held tight before letting go and now we've let go of all of that, the broken and weighty, the heavy of history are stuck in the past for me today the symbol for us is not clearly laid down or easily defined. i did not imagine four years later this would be a hand hold, a friendloverfriend, the partner with whom i've made a family, a queer centric relationship alas, my everyday wake up all, my reminder of what wasn't what i won't know will ever be unless there comes the words of family, encouragement and worth pursuing.
queered family healthy portrait
let me tell you something about my family- my immediate family. A family of queers, the gender non-conforming ties that bind us solid to the history we're creating. in short time that stranger over there became relative - we couldn't help but marry in, together we're rediscovering the truest selves, soul searching, an honest exploration, safely tucking that past away from all we fear and closing in on the small stuff, the point of getting to know my self in this very moment in this very time in this very relationship to you though i know you hardly, at all. knowing this, here and now, to us is worth the maintenance because love for us is plentiful - love is essential. that is changing, renaming, redefining, re-contextualized genderfucks, appearance that is fluid, frames that we use to border each other and protect us from forgetting this is all that we have.
siblings, who will they be this week and what pronoun should i use today, who will i be tomorrow and how will i adequately present the self of all my yesterdays without ruining the representation of someone else today. someone else who you will love, who will be accepted by the company and receive a job in a society my family is bending and breaking and bound to escape. if we push forward restricting nothing, no dream's impossible. we are constantly reminding each other that though the outside real world is ever changing, unforgiving, continually re-defying us, but we know not to do this to one another. respectfully, we ask - how do we define this, how can i create hir or them or that. more explicitly we give room for support, honesty and trust. there is constant help and in turn constant hope, for there's a constant reminder of love, allowing me to take that challenge and make that change, consistently we nurture this process alone and together, whether it gets worse some days, it's for better. how can i be me, we produce answer upon answer forever and then the more we wonder how it's possible but we are reminding ourselves. deep breathes, be easy, gently go forth, look back and don't be angry, learn from the past.
siblings, who will they be this week and what pronoun should i use today, who will i be tomorrow and how will i adequately present the self of all my yesterdays without ruining the representation of someone else today. someone else who you will love, who will be accepted by the company and receive a job in a society my family is bending and breaking and bound to escape. if we push forward restricting nothing, no dream's impossible. we are constantly reminding each other that though the outside real world is ever changing, unforgiving, continually re-defying us, but we know not to do this to one another. respectfully, we ask - how do we define this, how can i create hir or them or that. more explicitly we give room for support, honesty and trust. there is constant help and in turn constant hope, for there's a constant reminder of love, allowing me to take that challenge and make that change, consistently we nurture this process alone and together, whether it gets worse some days, it's for better. how can i be me, we produce answer upon answer forever and then the more we wonder how it's possible but we are reminding ourselves. deep breathes, be easy, gently go forth, look back and don't be angry, learn from the past.
just a thought
I was standing outside and thinking about a dance about people and bodies and stillness. These things cross my mind daily at an hourly rate on a regular basis. I was considering the performance, questioning the movement and my focus - my attention dismantled, my focus strong, direct perhaps obvious. I have terrible performance anxiety, it's no secret if you've met me. I am unnerved in the most simplistic of conversational discussion, debate and dialogue. I remember as a child growing up this form of fear rarely rose to the surface in my dance class or on the days before hours leading all the way through my small town studios annual performance. In fact I'd say that those days the "showy" part of me came easy, my ambition was strong as my ability to recognize and respond accordingly where my presence went unnoticed. Those days the roles were choreographed and in the safety of a local studio I could try that on. I would then slowly carried out the dance I imagined on my own time, never on the correct count or well enough to be the star. Yes I learned to try these things on for size and lived vaguely in a space hardly meant to be mine. I learned to NOT fill the role, to fail, and anticipate post performance you would look at me and no matter what I would know I'd failed, you were disappointed in me. I am redistributing these weighted thoughts unto braver ideas stretched out across my body's terrain.
here now take me soft
here you, now take my shirt, my pants, my fears
by the waste lines up my pelvis deep in my side
i can't push down pull away tides are running
century late i still believe
don't take this the wrong way or lie down on my bed
pushing on sore things as spots become worn rough
weary on endings terrify the livid days gone dead is love
come on take me, take my waist by the belt loops
scare me but even
then
you have got me knee deep, tongue tied, my lips pursed tight
you don't even know me as a father would fair
enough i trust in
you did see that far beyond my scared plays
acting kinder than him, you did
you've had me since the first night
tired tried and out of sight, i'd like to think you're gone
off my radar
you swooped in like the first time was yet another reminder
he reminds me play easy, have friends with whom you talk
to me you are ever simply the biggest mystery so familiar, so fine
go on leave cross the street at my corner don't look after
me, my mind will be spinning, the system keeps churning and charging at me
stunning, the sky, your history, i am staring after empty glasses,
clear moon and flakes effervescent, empty bottle, meaning wrought glances
and this space unwinding and it's undone what we're doing is reassuring
i have nothing you love, no one - no wonder i'm no woman and, i am not manly
lady-like and without type for my lover has left and my love is not well
dreaded uncertain, i've experienced such heartache but this is not that and you
are not she and he all the same thing
you're not just anyone of them to me your body stays closer to me, another
mind made a mess
this closets a clutter just like my gender
contingent
cunt
cock sucks
yet i just remembered you- boy
who to love and how to trust.
by the waste lines up my pelvis deep in my side
i can't push down pull away tides are running
century late i still believe
don't take this the wrong way or lie down on my bed
pushing on sore things as spots become worn rough
weary on endings terrify the livid days gone dead is love
come on take me, take my waist by the belt loops
scare me but even
then
you have got me knee deep, tongue tied, my lips pursed tight
you don't even know me as a father would fair
enough i trust in
you did see that far beyond my scared plays
acting kinder than him, you did
you've had me since the first night
tired tried and out of sight, i'd like to think you're gone
off my radar
you swooped in like the first time was yet another reminder
he reminds me play easy, have friends with whom you talk
to me you are ever simply the biggest mystery so familiar, so fine
go on leave cross the street at my corner don't look after
me, my mind will be spinning, the system keeps churning and charging at me
stunning, the sky, your history, i am staring after empty glasses,
clear moon and flakes effervescent, empty bottle, meaning wrought glances
and this space unwinding and it's undone what we're doing is reassuring
i have nothing you love, no one - no wonder i'm no woman and, i am not manly
lady-like and without type for my lover has left and my love is not well
dreaded uncertain, i've experienced such heartache but this is not that and you
are not she and he all the same thing
you're not just anyone of them to me your body stays closer to me, another
mind made a mess
this closets a clutter just like my gender
contingent
cunt
cock sucks
yet i just remembered you- boy
who to love and how to trust.
team varsity
I look at your arms covered in dark shades of burgundy and I'm suddenly urged to ask you
Does he take testosterone?
I push the question to the left and time decides for all the things left unremained
I put my faith in the moment of all that is unknown and unanswered
whether the importance is the very fact that nothing I wanted came from that topic but it's so broad and under the umbrella
we remain sheltered and comfy and spralled out "in queers i trust"
I think as i linger in the unforsaken trust i've granted for you are receiving my words
I talk and talk and reveal and you revel and we hardly mumble
we speak.
could this be the reverse? could i be reversing the code of things past
locking into place the notions of real romance, patience.
our secrets we lay down and all but
one hour i've know him
I lay out on the floor where we were siting eating pasta and staring
into the nothingness of what we are goes the rest of it i know
my story from the get-go your songs of glory protesting the hate
you proclaim to me better times and together we're rewriting histories
reclaiming our identity as tides rush in towards us and winds screamed surrounded we surrender to the darkened night sky while i stare into nothing
sketching image after image of you, cartoon
you, with out a place in my memory
I can't locate you but imagine you are here before me
with a mischievous glace we catch on
I see sparks and real change, i see glitter for your eyes.
Does he take testosterone?
I push the question to the left and time decides for all the things left unremained
I put my faith in the moment of all that is unknown and unanswered
whether the importance is the very fact that nothing I wanted came from that topic but it's so broad and under the umbrella
we remain sheltered and comfy and spralled out "in queers i trust"
I think as i linger in the unforsaken trust i've granted for you are receiving my words
I talk and talk and reveal and you revel and we hardly mumble
we speak.
could this be the reverse? could i be reversing the code of things past
locking into place the notions of real romance, patience.
our secrets we lay down and all but
one hour i've know him
I lay out on the floor where we were siting eating pasta and staring
into the nothingness of what we are goes the rest of it i know
my story from the get-go your songs of glory protesting the hate
you proclaim to me better times and together we're rewriting histories
reclaiming our identity as tides rush in towards us and winds screamed surrounded we surrender to the darkened night sky while i stare into nothing
sketching image after image of you, cartoon
you, with out a place in my memory
I can't locate you but imagine you are here before me
with a mischievous glace we catch on
I see sparks and real change, i see glitter for your eyes.
Covered Red and Gendered Neutral
For instance, there is no necessary connection between the word "red" and the color we perceive as red. -Riki Wilchins
When I say that we could fall in love with anyone I mean that, in my experience I fall in love a little bit everyday. It's true that I see in bodies and that I just like people. Whether it's that I look like this or, or that you care enough to call after me, "Freak," I can't walk but one block of this cities streets without wondering. It's crazy and I'm not sure which seems crazier. It doesn't matter what you actually think because in my minds eye I'm dressed up my insides in all the colors of the past. fuchsias
When I say that we could fall in love with anyone I mean that, in my experience I fall in love a little bit everyday. It's true that I see in bodies and that I just like people. Whether it's that I look like this or, or that you care enough to call after me, "Freak," I can't walk but one block of this cities streets without wondering. It's crazy and I'm not sure which seems crazier. It doesn't matter what you actually think because in my minds eye I'm dressed up my insides in all the colors of the past. fuchsias
not much
we eat breakfast from the same plate. for the first day in hours i haven't questioned this i have with him. we share a bed and a table and we tell each other stories and we wonder out loud about the way we touch and i know the way he looks at me complicates our understanding of that we discuss. we talk and talk sometimes about each other, often about ourselves, mostly we coexist and this makes it so easy. i am vulnerable, he is insecure. i am worried and he is nervous, but i calm him and when he leaves i feel my heart start to break, i brace myself for a quick recovery then he finds me. for the first time i get out of the house and we rediscover eachother with impeccable timing, we find the serendipitious and he comments that we look romantic and i shake my head and seem distracted and it's because i really really am. in my head i am considering all the wonders and wreckages that have made this and after registering 100 different thoughts within the minute i conclude at the end of that moment that this conversation leads us home to bed together again or apart - whichever frame we sleep we are left to answer these questions alone without having together come to any better understanding of what is between us. everyday the same thing, predictable, riviting, anxiety-causing as sexually stimulating and we wait, and everyday more deep than the one before. i take cues from his calls, my body melts, my muscles are relaxed and i realize that my entire being has following suit, i have completely given him my weight trusting that enough to look into his eyes when i talk 3 centimeters from his face, lock my arm with his when he holds his elbow out to cue me, creep finger by finger into that large hand of his until our hands are tightly interlaced.
try to remember
I want to share something with you. I need to tell but the sky to hear myself in conclusion. I need not wait for anyone and need not prepare for I was born, preparations come from all the days I've live prior to today. But I am unprepared. "Freak," they scream on what I thought was an empty corner before hearing this, the pavement stays sturdy below me. Shaking. My body is trembling, my thoughts are racing for answers until I'm settled. I think of what's next for me but I can hardly see the dim street before me - I can't foresee the evenings ending nor the invitation to the entrance way of my building. I reach my keys to open the padlock welcoming me to safety, home. I don't know what's more absurd. I am processing now for at least one conscious hour and it's brought nothing to the forefront while everything rushes past me crashing now at once.
THAT'S CRAZY! You think I'm a freak? I look like a freak?? Do you see me? Oh, wait. That- she, I, this is crazy I start thinking, analyzing this - but I'm wearing a collard shirt, but it's purple and it's- it's a girls clothing dept shirt and doesn't it matter that - you don't care. You're unprivied and priviledged as I and you, you will taunt me, rattle and bang at my glass house, spit as you wait for your first sighting at my doorstep, on my corner, on the sidewalk, in the mall, at the club, in the middle of the night, coming out of the ally way, navigating through the city, in a gay town, I am not safe, I think to myself - I am safe, I am strong, I am ready. Admittedly I am a liar as I compare myself to not one person, place or time in particular. I am not sure if I should present this way suddenly aware that I am uncertain of my presence - in this outfit it's hard to be sure whether it is me. What motivated this look? And perhaps it wasn't motive based at all, perhaps I was driven by inspiration and that's why this was chosen. This starts to destroy me from the insides out and I am picking my brain for answers, no closure however. It doesn't matter what you're thinking, I'm thinking in visibility's terms you either see me or you don't see me. I choose to engage with the world or I don't. I don't have straight hair from ironing out the kinks, I don't have hours to prepare for the big party and I don't have one-gender-conforming-identity, I don't have any reason to conform - I am only concerned at the moment for safety's sake and otherwise, I can't honestly say I give two damns. But I give it more than a thought - whether I want to reflect this, I don't actually know. Whether I care about choosing one-gender-conforming-identity? No. But you see, I do - I care because I am choosing to exist and need to live. Inside this body my words are trapped - I am confined to language. Restrictions are placed inside of me and they come from without me, yet I must choose you identity to speak for me - I must be grown to stop and think of all of this. I was taught nothing and everything at once, I was learning how to love before I gendered you and words fell upon me, my lips and kissed almost everything. But there's hope for me, there is hope in this community and you remind me by staying by me, honest with me, and I - find myself surrendering to the argument. After all why protest - you queers surround me and surround me and I can hardly get around without asking what it means. Can you see me??
I overheard "FOR THE BOY,
It takes but a moment, a matter of milliseconds, a shift from right to left - the result of body intelligence, the transference of weight we learn to walk at a young age without thinking about it further in life. And YEEEEEEAHHHH!" spilling out of the drunkards mouths and carrying through the streets gripped like chills to the flesh ofthat separates my insides from your
I'm walking down the street and I'm trying to remember if I've ever felt safe.
THAT'S CRAZY! You think I'm a freak? I look like a freak?? Do you see me? Oh, wait. That- she, I, this is crazy I start thinking, analyzing this - but I'm wearing a collard shirt, but it's purple and it's- it's a girls clothing dept shirt and doesn't it matter that - you don't care. You're unprivied and priviledged as I and you, you will taunt me, rattle and bang at my glass house, spit as you wait for your first sighting at my doorstep, on my corner, on the sidewalk, in the mall, at the club, in the middle of the night, coming out of the ally way, navigating through the city, in a gay town, I am not safe, I think to myself - I am safe, I am strong, I am ready. Admittedly I am a liar as I compare myself to not one person, place or time in particular. I am not sure if I should present this way suddenly aware that I am uncertain of my presence - in this outfit it's hard to be sure whether it is me. What motivated this look? And perhaps it wasn't motive based at all, perhaps I was driven by inspiration and that's why this was chosen. This starts to destroy me from the insides out and I am picking my brain for answers, no closure however. It doesn't matter what you're thinking, I'm thinking in visibility's terms you either see me or you don't see me. I choose to engage with the world or I don't. I don't have straight hair from ironing out the kinks, I don't have hours to prepare for the big party and I don't have one-gender-conforming-identity, I don't have any reason to conform - I am only concerned at the moment for safety's sake and otherwise, I can't honestly say I give two damns. But I give it more than a thought - whether I want to reflect this, I don't actually know. Whether I care about choosing one-gender-conforming-identity? No. But you see, I do - I care because I am choosing to exist and need to live. Inside this body my words are trapped - I am confined to language. Restrictions are placed inside of me and they come from without me, yet I must choose you identity to speak for me - I must be grown to stop and think of all of this. I was taught nothing and everything at once, I was learning how to love before I gendered you and words fell upon me, my lips and kissed almost everything. But there's hope for me, there is hope in this community and you remind me by staying by me, honest with me, and I - find myself surrendering to the argument. After all why protest - you queers surround me and surround me and I can hardly get around without asking what it means. Can you see me??
I overheard "FOR THE BOY,
It takes but a moment, a matter of milliseconds, a shift from right to left - the result of body intelligence, the transference of weight we learn to walk at a young age without thinking about it further in life. And YEEEEEEAHHHH!" spilling out of the drunkards mouths and carrying through the streets gripped like chills to the flesh ofthat separates my insides from your
I'm walking down the street and I'm trying to remember if I've ever felt safe.
Daily: I walk the city without direction, cross roads with intention, find solace in the setting smile in that strangers face. When we meet eye to eye at the CTA I panic. The last thing I want is to see you and know that you've seen me, I don't want to know that I've shown myself. I'm spoken for and it humbles me, the silence angers me, the answers - they punish me. But who am I to say "Excuse me./?/!" Definitively and definitely not trusting, "I'm not very trustworthy," I think and admit only once to myself I am living a lie and I am not combatting it, not ready, not strong enough, and not yet willing to sink into it - I am sitting quietly. It is the act of violence - PART 1, that disturbs me.
I send her a message from the 76 in response to my discomfort. I knew only the name of the street which prepared me - inside I prepared myself by getting to know myself as foreigner, acknowledging quietly how little I knew the direction in which I'd be traveling and quieting my eyes so as not to tell the stranger anything.
So, it's got to start somewhere. If not here then noway in my lifetime will I conquer this. My ability to kiss fear upon meeting for the first time is better. I was just introduced to this and...I had a thought. What if I told you. What if I welcomed you like I welcome fear - what if I am right deep down inside and I let myself actually act on the impulse my heart beats, forgetting this whole reality thing existed, never exists again. Suppose it's that easy. Really I think it is. I think we learn a lot of bullshit and I think time did a finite job, an abstraction perhaps of what I now sense as something else, other. The other person I am chatting with is sitting adjacent to me, his face looks at mine without falling out of place, maintaining the lines and shape as though perhaps this is not the first time. Maybe. Maybe is some version of our collective response to the person who is leaving and from my back I can sense their eyes on me, hear their words reflecting "I look like him and he looks like me," no that's not right. I swear they just asked if we were twins and I almost screamed. INstead I laughed insincerely at this question that was more of a statement since this person seemed to have no question in their mind about how this in so many way was wrong. Since we had nothing but the same hair to call short and sweaters that matched in darkness in color, similar in the neckline that was cut in a "V" and restricting, limiting, like nearly everything else. Our layers of chosen clothing are covers for the anatomy that presupposes us invisible but intimate. Our differences push beyond anything I own or wear like he does but then our insides didn't relieve us. The moment confronted us individually, attacked from the inside and a far stretch but we're reminded the premises of our first engagement - outlaws. Gender fucks, that reminded us. Reunited at the self that steps outside of the self to get back to that place where it's ok in light of the situation, in the company of other men challenging the civil right to live and breathe within the rights of humanity. And in my experience the humans existing within this society could use to lose a few fights and really can't stand the truth. When all alone I can't remember the strength of walking with members of this other body, the power in numbers when we get together to discuss the binaries and misses of living on the outskirts of the gender-non-conforming, tiptoeing and hushed whispers to subvert yourself and what's worse the body to conform and days like to I can't help but be angered at the plain injustice of groupings - we have our own story man (you might refer yourself as "woman" but it really doesn't matter for the sake of this I'm writing) get it right or leave it, let it go on or fight with us. Come take every other one's place, stand next in line to the boy I'm aligned to here in power and outlaws within the constraints of gender and recognize us - we look nothing alike. See us and move forward like you would with most anybody. See: we have our story. But we're tangled in two and- I can't find my own.
I send her a message from the 76 in response to my discomfort. I knew only the name of the street which prepared me - inside I prepared myself by getting to know myself as foreigner, acknowledging quietly how little I knew the direction in which I'd be traveling and quieting my eyes so as not to tell the stranger anything.
So, it's got to start somewhere. If not here then noway in my lifetime will I conquer this. My ability to kiss fear upon meeting for the first time is better. I was just introduced to this and...I had a thought. What if I told you. What if I welcomed you like I welcome fear - what if I am right deep down inside and I let myself actually act on the impulse my heart beats, forgetting this whole reality thing existed, never exists again. Suppose it's that easy. Really I think it is. I think we learn a lot of bullshit and I think time did a finite job, an abstraction perhaps of what I now sense as something else, other. The other person I am chatting with is sitting adjacent to me, his face looks at mine without falling out of place, maintaining the lines and shape as though perhaps this is not the first time. Maybe. Maybe is some version of our collective response to the person who is leaving and from my back I can sense their eyes on me, hear their words reflecting "I look like him and he looks like me," no that's not right. I swear they just asked if we were twins and I almost screamed. INstead I laughed insincerely at this question that was more of a statement since this person seemed to have no question in their mind about how this in so many way was wrong. Since we had nothing but the same hair to call short and sweaters that matched in darkness in color, similar in the neckline that was cut in a "V" and restricting, limiting, like nearly everything else. Our layers of chosen clothing are covers for the anatomy that presupposes us invisible but intimate. Our differences push beyond anything I own or wear like he does but then our insides didn't relieve us. The moment confronted us individually, attacked from the inside and a far stretch but we're reminded the premises of our first engagement - outlaws. Gender fucks, that reminded us. Reunited at the self that steps outside of the self to get back to that place where it's ok in light of the situation, in the company of other men challenging the civil right to live and breathe within the rights of humanity. And in my experience the humans existing within this society could use to lose a few fights and really can't stand the truth. When all alone I can't remember the strength of walking with members of this other body, the power in numbers when we get together to discuss the binaries and misses of living on the outskirts of the gender-non-conforming, tiptoeing and hushed whispers to subvert yourself and what's worse the body to conform and days like to I can't help but be angered at the plain injustice of groupings - we have our own story man (you might refer yourself as "woman" but it really doesn't matter for the sake of this I'm writing) get it right or leave it, let it go on or fight with us. Come take every other one's place, stand next in line to the boy I'm aligned to here in power and outlaws within the constraints of gender and recognize us - we look nothing alike. See us and move forward like you would with most anybody. See: we have our story. But we're tangled in two and- I can't find my own.
tired stones
it turns out, i don’t remember the feeling - it existed before this empty nested feeling overcoming me, overcasted “you.”but lay me down to rest these tired bones so scattered we are scrambled up in images of what we were and who we’ll never see again, goodbye for now for always it hurt to call you by the name for saken (as though this circumstance could be forgiven) you just won’t ever be what one might call a friend.
who are you
i feel so differently: you are masked by darkness. it was the middle
we’re wasting our breath
as though harmless
i’m starting to feel your harsh edges as i re-meet the five oclock shadow
dare i step too close to the sensation risen
at the thought my skin your skin our skins meeting as such
once again in the middle. playing middle ground, never certain where we’re spinning as we’re spitting little speeches
our words tones indifferent to our interaction full of nothing.
it’s just empty space we hold together now, these days.
we’re passive non-agressive but i can tell from the way our bodies jolt there
clueless that our minds are saying anything at all
limbs hautled by the bustling brain waves as anatomy waits
man kind, alfa-male (you) never cared to compliment what already
wasn’t there to begin with
so WHY do i stand for this here i know better than to believe
whatever’s between us is something broken
and battered, waitiing at the seams, my hemline (slightly different than yours)
your fly
our bottoms hang looseto state the obvious my hips are wide and rivers can’t mend the tide that
crashedthis shore is sick and i crawl from where i hidsafetly in the cave my heart is sunken
sinking in this rotten ship
our shit is every day secreted
and i am secrets out this thing i am to you is purely skin deep
but you’d weep if you knew so i’ll stand
here i’ll humor you and make you think what i think i want
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