3 Nov

We are reaching for something beyond us,

calling out to the mother-void;

knowledge before language,

gods before men.


“recognize My honor,

My valor, My struggle,

I found the true thing

I had no need of mortal womb

or breath, or touch, or speech

to know this truth.”


2 May

I want them empty,

but they are full.

I want a lack of lines


Space, to roam in curves,

a world that does not

incite these kind of angry tears.


A world where we do not

make places for people


all mapped out roadways

and jurisdictions and over used tropes

and zoning houses and business



I want a place where my kind

was not cut from a rib

was not laid over the image of earth


to likewise be pillaged and raped.


A place where I am empty,

and my emptiness is without

further meaning.


28 Apr

It feels impossible to explain

the gap.


the great void between

the world of feelings

and words.


the gap that makes aesthetic lists of grotesque

bloodstains into stomach churning

that feels something like love


the endless blackness

of speechless sex

dripping and warm and dangerous


that cannot hold the simple form

of two people playing parts,


the subtle violences

of ideas, the fleshy


Fictional Problems

8 Apr

there are endless possibilities

itching at my back of my hipbones,

crawling out between my ribs,

spilling through the gaps in my teeth.


it could be vomit, and bile,

or tears mixed with semen,

makeup and sweat,

happiness, sorrow, insanity.


slipping between the milliseconds

hearing you call me a goddess

and a whore in the same breath


demonic, tied up in the

scratching. sloughing off skin cells

unsure of what will

come up from beneath:


mermaids or harpies,

your terror, or my own.

Pressure Fractures

7 Apr

I miss holding them in my hands,

running with the inkblots

smudges, painting shadow-picture



all leather and ribbon and cracked

spines with wetted corners.


honesty is the only way out.

I am bleeding fire.


I can write about these things

as though they are true for me

when I have never been there


never had a house in the trees.


I am a maker,

I make water

I could make life.

There is a secret language

I want to share with you


all careful brushes and fingertips,

but without the physical.


you can speak it in the spaces

between words.


know it in the smell before

and after the rain, but never



Creation Myths

6 Apr

A plant will always reach

to what you have told it

what you made it believe, is the sun.


Heat lamps, vertical irrigation,

it knows nothing else. We cannot

help but desire, and you have

planted each one of us


Down the line, in repetition

growing from one another’s ashes,

bones. The gristle of DNA


and something else I have forgotten,

reaching to the sun

out an east-facing window.


5 Apr

You wear your sadness like a

cloak. careful crafted,

clever pockets

all stitched together, patchwork.


your mother would cry

at your handiwork.

Navigation Laws

9 Mar

They feel like laws.


Reams, of papers and protocols

lists, expectations

the social sort of punishments.


Struggling against the collapse of society,

all of our bodies tumbling together

into indistinguishability


A gelatinous membrane against

which I splay my hands and push

but know I cannot go so far as to break.


I am negotiated with,

held up by the ultimate law

I crafted to lay over your delegation


“I love you, I love you.”


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