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the mother that i’ll never know/ every time that i see the ocean/ every time —
30 Wednesday Aug 2017
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≈ Comments Off on quote unquote
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the mother that i’ll never know/ every time that i see the ocean/ every time —
30 Wednesday Aug 2017
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≈ Comments Off on Jena Strong’s “Throwdown”
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give me the drag queens, dolled up and delicious
the two moms bickering over the dishes
the orphans, adopted, the chosen, the trannies
the witches, the protestors, tattooed laughing grannies
the boys wearing tutus and all the shirtless
daughters of the revolution playing basketball
on the broken courts of lost fathers
the failures, the forgotten, the throwdown, the freak show
the hurts and the heartbreaks, the hassles and headaches
the beggar, the baron, the shelter, the clambake
trade in the cynical, the stubborn, the splintering showdown
because it’s time to unite now, yes it’s time to ignite now
it’s time to pick up the phone to say, It’s me and I love you
—
30 Wednesday Aug 2017
Tags
2017 sucks, anal sex, erotic poem, Poetry, soft flesh, sonnet, strap-on, year of the conch, year of the rooster
The Year of the Cock makes gender-neutral
a tad hard, be it soft flesh or strap-on —
but we strive. If, during our long anal
fucking, I cup your balls, pull your tampon
string, or rub that scarred place that you can’t feel,
then we’re still creatures of fire in a world
that loathes burning. If, after each gasp, squeal
and, “¡Ai! mi Diosa!” If, while we’re curled,
nuzzled, while the sweat and cum cools, then yes,
this year might remain awful — we can lose
so much — yet, we’re here right now, divinely.
There’s no Year of the Conch Shell, though we bless
the same deep crinkled lips. These are taboos
that we must break—these acts that make us free.
25 Friday Aug 2017
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≈ Comments Off on patricia smith’s “siblings”
Hurricanes, 2005
Arlene learned to dance backwards in heels that were too high.
Bret prayed for a shaggy mustache made of mud and hair.
Cindy just couldn’t keep her windy legs together.
Dennis never learned to swim.
Emily whispered her gusts into a thousand skins.
Franklin, farsighted and anxious, bumbled villages.
Gert spat her matronly name against a city’s flat face.
Harvey hurled a wailing child high.
Irene, the baby girl, threw pounding tantrums.
José liked the whip sound of slapping.
Lee just craved the whip.
Maria’s thunder skirts flew high when she danced.
Nate was mannered and practical. He stormed precisely.
Ophelia nibbled weirdly on the tips of depressions.
Philippe slept too late, flailing on a wronged ocean.
Rita was a vicious flirt. She woke Philippe with rumors.
Stan was born business, a gobbler of steel.
Tammy crooned country, getting the words all wrong.
Vince died before anyone could remember his name.
Wilma opened her maw wide, flashing rot.
None of them talked about Katrina.
She was their odd sister,
the blood dazzler.
18 Friday Aug 2017
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≈ Comments Off on Lola Ridge, “The Alley” (1920)
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1920 truth, flies in your eyes, lgbt+ positivity, Lola Ridge, poem, Poetry, queer childhood, reblog, transgender, wild wet sheets
Because you are four years old
the candle is all dressed up in a new frill.
And stars nod to you through the hole in the curtain,
(except the big stiff planets
too fat to move about much,)
and you curtsey back to the stars
when no one is looking.
You feel sorry for the poor wooden chair
that knows it isn’t nice to sit on,
and no one is sad but mama.
You don’t like mama to be sad
when you are four years old,
so you pretend
you like the bitter gold-pale tea—
you pretend
if you don’t drink it up pretty quick
a little gold-fish
will think it is a pond
and come and get born in it.
][][
It’s hot in our street
and the breeze is a dirty little broom
that sweeps dust into our room
and bits of paper out of the alley.
You are not let to play
with the children in the alley
But you must be very polite—
so you pass them and say good day
and when they fling banana skins
you fling them back again.
][][
There is no one to play with
and the flies on the window
buzz and buzz…
…you can pull out their legs
and stick pins in their bodies
but still they buzz…
and mama says:
When Nero was a little boy
he caught flies on his mama’s window
and pulled out their legs
and stuck pins in their bodies
and nobody loved him.
Buzz, blue-bellied flies—
buzz, nasty black wheel
of mama’s machine—
you are the biggest fly of all—
you have the loudest buzz.
I hear you at dawn before the locusts.
But I like the picture of the Flood
and the little babies getting drowned….
If I were there I would save them,
but as I can’t save them
I like to watch them
getting drowned.
][][
When mama buys of Ling Ho,
he smiles very wide
and picks her the largest loquots.
The greens-man gave her a cabbage
and she held it against her black bodice
and said what a beautiful green it was
and put it on the table
as though it had been a flower.
But next day we boiled and ate it with salt.
It was our dinner.
][][
Christmas day
I found Janie on my pillow.
Janie is made of rubber.
Her red and blue jacket won’t come off.
Christmas dinner was green and white
chicken and lettuce and peas
and drops of oil on the salad
smiley and full of light
like the gold on the lady’s teeth.
But mama said politely
Thank you, we are dining out.
She wouldn’t let you take one pea
to put in the hole where the whistle was
at the back of Janie’s head,
so Janie should have some dinner
So you went to the park with biscuits
and black tea in a bottle.
][][
You feel very sad
when you climb on the fence
to watch mama out of sight.
The women in the alley
poke their heads out of doorways
and watch her too.
You know her
by the way she holds her shoulders
till she is only a speck
in a chain of specks—
till she is swallowed up.
But suppose
that day after day
you were to watch for her face
and it didn’t come back?
Suppose
it were to drop out of the string of white faces
like the pearl out of my chain
I never found again?
][][
Mabel minds you while mama is out,
she washes while she sings
Three blind mice!
they all run away from the farmer’s wife
who cut off their tails
with a carving knife—
Wind blows out Mabel’s sheets,
way you blow in a bag before you burst it.
Wind has a soapy smell.
It’s heavier’n sun
that lies all over you without any weight
and makes you feel happy
and crinkly like bubbling water.
There’s no sun on the empty house—
sly-looking house—
you can’t see in its windows
that watch you out of their corners.
Perhaps there’s a big spider there
spinning gray threads over the windows
till they look like dead people’s faces….
Jimmie says:
Jimmie’s hair is white as a white mouse.
His lashes are gold as mama’s wedding ring
and his mouth feels cool and smooth
like a flower wet with rain.
You wouldn’t believe Jimmie was different…
till he showed you….
][][
Blind wet sheets
flapping on the lines…
sun in your eyes,
dark gold sun
full of little black spots,
you have to blink and blink…
round eyes of Jimmie….
Jimmie’s blue jumper…
blue shadow of wall…
all the world holding still
as when a clock stops…
streets still… people still…
no streets… no people…
only sky and wall…
sun glaring bright as God
down at you and Jimmie…
shadow like a purple cloth
trailing off the wall…
Wild wet sheets
flapping in the wind…
big slippered feet flapping too…
big-balloon-face
rushing up the alley…
houses closing up again…
windows looking round…
… Mabel pulls you in the gate and shakes you
and tells you not to tell your mama…
And you wonder
if God has spoiled Jimmie.
06 Thursday Jul 2017
Breathe on your neck and your hairs stand erect.
You are wet like moss dribbling on rock
with kick-boots, leather jacket, dawn’s mohawk.
I love your brawn, the strength that you project.
You are thick in every way that I’m plump.
I drag your knife across my shoulder blade
and all my pale flesh opens. You throw shade
better than my friends. I’m all sad thighs, rump
and queer bulges, yet still I bleed. I gag
you, face-fucking your skull until we choke
and say this is shit. We laugh. It’s all shit
that we drown in spliff. We’re called dyke and fag,
Hera’s bum-boys. I love you. There’s pale smoke
between us — drifting up — into orbit.
04 Tuesday Jul 2017
Tags
Cum and conjure, erotic art, Fóllame el culo, fuck me in the ass, gash and harvest, hashish, poem, Poetry, sonnet
At first thrust you gasped; cello’s tight sinew
snapping as you opened up, your haunches
splayed, your fingers in the grass, then you drew
your head back, whiplash, and begged with curses,
“¡fóllame el culo!” You made an awed
pucker at either end, a mewl and grunt
into a whine, as the curved bow seesawed
inside you. I named gods (manic, urgent)
who lived for this. What else was there? Later
we curled, sucked from the hookah. Opium
imbued the air. We could’ve been a prayer
to an old life, old death. Cum and conjure.
Gash and harvest. Suture and orgasm.
Instead we’re what the gods left out: horror.
][][
note:
In Spanish, “Fóllame el culo,” translates into, “Fuck my ass.” Of all the instruments that I will never learn how to play the cello is what I set my words to.
16 Friday Jun 2017
A beat oozes from somewhere deep below
me. It’s the rattle of the fan. The squeaks
that the floor makes. The day’s heat, all day-glo,
neon green, waves filtering up in streaks,
halos. I feel it when I press my cheek
against the warped wood; a beat totally
alien to my own heart. A wild shriek
of drums when drums shriek. What debauchery
isn’t kinship to such noise? That riot
of want that has no language except need.
I hear it, barely. All that you call smut
I call prayer. All that is green and honeyed.
All prayer is need. I bend down to the floor.
I need more than this queer beat. I need more.
14 Wednesday Jun 2017
Give me the narcotics; all this morning
these gin tonics don’t do much. Someone, please,
said the fly to the spider with its sting
and long leer. When did I become a tease
to all that tried to help me? Why am I
the one who can’t take friendships easily?
Outside the mud swallow and magpie
fly by my window. There’s something haughty
about my last stand. This is all in flux,
everything smears, everything is a mess
across my face and yet somehow I must
keep calm. It’s a stand; yet roses, lilacs
and the ash can’t help me with my distress.
I don’t want intoxication … just trust.
14 Wednesday Jun 2017
Tags
Crash's Landing, John Monroe, Nubbins, Pigeon, poem, Poetry, sonnet
I love the cats who mark you as their own.
My John Monroe, with no lower lip, drools
down my cheek as I hold him. Pigeon’s moan
is a dove’s coo. Nubbins hisses and mewls
in joy, his one eye, tattered ears, pressing
against my arm each time I stoke his bent
neck. Show me a love that’s not a blessing;
a love not supreme — I carry that scent
everywhere. On the days when this human
world is mean and when my friends turn away
and those that I call family despair
and when I am left depressed and maudlin
and I don’t have the strength to even pray —
there’s love. I carry that scent everywhere.
][][
note:
I volunteer at a no-kill cat shelter, Crash’s Landing, where most of my cat photos come from. The cats I mention are all waiting for someone who’ll want to give them their forever-homes.