↓
20 June 2025
I go through one cycle of seasons
I go through one cycle of seasons
i. Winter
I came out of my mother‘s womb the wrong way
You could say, my ass saw the world first
And already i came in gazing at a past that i didn‘t have,
or at least not in this new life.
I like to believe i had left myself behind
and in its place is an ill-fitting dress of a flesh.
A flesh jacket, which for the first quarter of life i kept gripping for what it was missing
and for what it shouldn’t have.
I‘d like you to believe i am not asking for what i shouldn’t have
Rather that i am asking for what i once had.
This was the first quarter of life, a long winter of wanting.
ii. Spring
the first spring to a newcomer is a whirlwind romance
the unbelievable blue,
the unnerving fragrance of raw birth (from the earth)
new hair sprouting in places in cadence with new leaves on the trees.
i stab myself weekly with man juice and every cell in my body rave in applause
from these torrents of spring.
Bodies of water are defrosting and you could see every moss and pebble on the riverbeds.
I could finally see under the glass of my skin, once sun-deprived, robbed by the jacket of flesh
Now tossed into the last fire of winter.
iii.
iv.
Two days prior was the 2nd anniversary of the beginning of my medical transition.
3 May 2025
[draft] of weeds
[draft] of weeds
being one with the weeds by proxy,
from my shoes
kissing them
the upper half of my body
to a tunnel of light
the only reason for unpausing
in the dark of this path
not away from you
my lower half saunters
along kissing new
flowers and shiny leaves
with you
beneath the ferns
the side of your face
a painful shoe
the flask of water
8 May 2025
A N G E L S
A N G E L S
There are supposedly angels
resigned from flight
all this time
their wings careening off
of their shoulders,
still shimmying
under golden tufts of light
from the sun, that lets
only angels hold it, even loosely
without vanishing.
and for the rest of us
the light melts on
our soft surfaces, only
to disappear again
(we cannot be trusted
without wings)
we forgot about the angels
when we gave them
names
and it grew on
them so much so that they
discovered the respite
of ground touching feet.
who are your angels?
you can tell by the way
they walk, teetering on
our pavements without
shoes,
each step sending a current of pain
and
pleasure, glassy eyes
arrested by ecstasy,
discovering the human curse
wings shimmying
under tufts of fluorescent light.
4 January 2025
city of fire
city of fire