Category: citizen trans* {project}
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(excerpts taken from Harris Walz campaign email subject lines leading up to 2024 Presidential election) Happy Birthday Honey! A simple request: Hoping you’ll take two quick minutes: Let’s surprise Kamala today! Not tomorrow. Not next week. TODAY Can I call you? Before you go to sleep Before Midnight I know it’s getting late – Awake?…
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Because when my tears fall, they follow a familiar path, One carved into my bones like a rushing river does a canyon, I am no longer here, I tell her. I am in the mirror, I tell her. Harvesting fears, the feller; Dripping red, the state of Wisconsin burns a hole in my TV. I…
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after Noah Baldino Halved, the body might resemble a geode, crystalline glisten after dirt. That is, of course, until it rots. A purple stone brought home to dry gray on the windowsill. On the train home I wonder, if I open myself, would yellow, white, all shades blue and red surprise me? What hides in…
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I wish I knew just how we got here but I had long ago lost hope. I’d been seeing the political arena play out in everyday street encounters. Those status-symbol oversized, overpriced gas-guzzling monstrocities of trucks sought to control both vehicular and ideological traffic by engaging in their own ticker tape parades, honking and screaming…
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A head overfilled of pollution; of the world crumbling below one’s feet, smog cutting ties in every waking breath– that could very well be one’s last. Two a.m. alarms sound a countdown to adulting, to long-houred shifts where life is forever missed. Beating around the bush for college applications, internships, tours; yet shattered by the…
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I saw the news. All I can think about is my third grade election. The election had been whittled down to just me and a boy. I don’t remember his name. I cared about the student body. I wanted to instill change in my public school. I lost. I lost because my opponent said that…
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my dad always wanted to be his dad but he wasn’t supposed to be his dad, who rummaged through scrap piles, exposing himself to unknown toxins that would spread throughout his body killing him halfway through his fifties my dad works nights as a glorified McAfee program for the Army my dad, though, was never…
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this body unrecognizable hands feel the familiar itch of crabgrass 3 layers deep the lungs remember sediment so meticulous woven into each gust and breath I cannot seem to recognize the face bred for beauty with hair butchered by familial fabric shears yet through the warped inconsistent tangible alteration these eyes remain the same craving…
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The smoky midwest sky falls apart mid morning. You’re trying to fill your lungs with clouds. The second time in two days you force a twenty minute drive across a foreign town to medicate- Is Illinois considered the Midwest? This edible has gone to your head. A radio man chimes in, rants about the death…
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And just like that, I am Gregor Samsa waking up in the body of a bug. I am fourteen again, all big eyes and spindly legs and the ability to march in a line with the weight of the world on my shelled back. And just like that, I am Felix Hoenikker, too smart to…