Category: citizen trans* {project}
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The world is dressed in bright, shrovtide festival colorswith olive branches braided into hair, bells chiming in market squares,children are promised futures bright as freshly coined goldhistory is told as a gentle guide,from fire to wheel to satellite,cave wall, cathedral, glass skyscraperthe species congratulates itself on its ascentfrom flint to forge to fiber-optic miraclethe sack…
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“Well,” says the announcer, tapping his papers into place. “I guess THAT’S ALL, FOLKS. I guess this is MY LAST SHOW. I guess—” He presses his finger to a protruding vein on the side of his well-shaped nose and sniffs— “this is the end of cotton candy machines, ice cream sodas, and the goddamn fucking…
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An excerpt from the truly inspired presidential action. By the authority vested in me as President by the Constitution and the laws of the United States of America, it is hereby ordered: Across the country today, medical professionals are maiming and sterilizing a growing number of impressionable children under the radical and false claim that…
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I’m scared to touch the blue bag on my bedI fold laundry and hot clothes into the drawer a little askewair cool again under the window socks warm out when they’re upair flying through the swamp cooler light tasty and full of rain I made the bed two months passing to sleepon my beautiful red…
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Donald Trump’s win is something extraordinary, something divine.It’s extraordinary in its idiocy, and as divine as any punishment gets.It makes me furious; it makes me mad.It makes me wish that I were evil and bad.Evil enough to not really care, bad enough to hate somebody.Cause today is not for the faint and good of heart.Today’s…
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Upside down I show herhow to load the film butwe didn’t realize the lead slippedwe went around the dark tongue flutteringon closed lipsshutters firing intoshop windowscap guns at strangerspoint blankempty firecrackers set offin the mallfor children to play inwith their teddy bears and magic wandsbold with silver we cast shadowsof the world onto our palmswe’ll…
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Every day we wake up to a new kind of surrender.AndI bury my lover.in the silt and sand of a water-soaked beach.Pearly blue eyes,In oceans I’ll never enter again.I am a hollow spectre, haunting Scorched by the sun-kissed sand, and I am Kneeling,picking up shards of glass, cupping my hands together, gather moreuntuck my shirt…
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The very thought of throwing myself overboard made me recoil. There were Conrad and Melville, of course, maybe Golding. No other major writer of fiction who’d spent much time at sea came to mind. The watery writers didn’t much appeal. Eugene O’Neill was the only playwright I could think of who sailed. Hart Crane and…
