poetry
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Magnolia
Shhhh. – the wind When I die, bury me at Petit Jean. Fill my lungs with fresh-tilled earth and let the Arkansas rush through my ribs. I am a flower, strong and frail, a gardener tending to the soil of my heart. When I return from Hades, my soul will sprout again, blooming among the… Continue reading
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Transitions #6
You want them to notice the ragged hem of your summer dress. You want them to see you like they see every other girl. But they just see a faggot. They hold their breath not to catch the sick. – Laura Jane Grace, Transgender Dysphoria Blues Content note: transphobic slurs Gaze. The quiet (loud) quiet… Continue reading
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Transitions #5
While there’s life there’s hope. – Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote For Penelope. For hope. How much time do I have to free you, scared little girl? How much time did you sleep in that dark closet, buried under histories barely-whispered, barely-spoken? How much did it hurt to hide from the degradation and the pain?… Continue reading
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Transitions #1
I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul,The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me,The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new tongue.- Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass Do you feel the earth beneath your… Continue reading
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The Begotten One
If you want to be complete, go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven. And come follow me. – Jesus, Matthew 19.21 (CEB) The pipes are frozen and the shelters are full as we gather in a squat to help deliver God into the… Continue reading
Fish In the Afternoon 