Category: citizen trans* {project}


  • WAVING, NOT DROWNING

    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…

  • IT GETS WORSE

    The US is a joke, a cruel and unfunny joke from a bully. It relies on old timey racist tropes that are more played out than the Apprentice as the becoming president or the Fear Factor guy being treated like a person deserving of our attention. This colonial projects as structurally and longevity of a…

  • I was born with scars on my chest

    When I came out as fresh as a fawn and as juicy as a lamb I want you to know I already had the scars on my chest. I was born like this, with a body that would be preyed upon like so many before me and so many after. I knew from the second…

  • The Fight is Not Joyous

    Fighting fascism does not evoke in me anything resembling joy. Any resistance implies a need for resistance, which implies the existence of oppression, and the only thing in the world which cannot bring about happiness, is oppression. I do not fight, nor do I wish to fight with greater desperation, because of the joyous fruits…

  • September

    and what a beautiful name too.you were there when I was born,with egg shells sprinkled around my eyes.you flew me there, dark but still polished.when do you sleep? when do I wake?i remember it,the burning device on my hand, red eyes and sore arms.we’ve now been able to sleep with our eyes closed.we put our…

  • for pripyat

    he’s keeping his arms out, yardsticks to the sarcophagushazardly contains its lethal blast radius,dripping astringent violet nucleotidesfrom a sting incommensurate with his ability to live. his behavior is repulsive:under the elephant’s foot on his floating ribshe’s chained the little boy who foolishly needs his mother—the boy imagines (or could it be) mommy peers into his…

  • Endangered Species

    If I had claws I would use them to carve woundslike red open mouths on my chestWhere my talon sliced two graceful arcsAnd I pulled away what I do not want. This is cliche.My professor told me so when I tried to write this poem years ago.Every tranny fag wants to rip themselves apart. I…

  • then i would see to unraveling my name

    i vomit up butterflies every time i hear the wordsthey flutter gently on my tongueand then dry between my teethand crumple into a gravei spit out the wingsbut the crawling sensation lingers and yetthey remain unseen.sheshesheshesheshe shakes in the spotlightsand they singe into her skinsheshesheshe wraps her breasts tight within a chrysalisand she ties back…

  • A shooting in utah

    Three children shot at school in Denver around noon. Before we elect to care, Charlie’s bleeding out his neck, dead. News comes in: 200 yards, a hunting rifle, an outdoor event. Tune in to folks I don’t trust, but tolerate, saying “Violence has no place in our Democracy.” They mean the political kind, not the…

  • A Prayer For a Better Purpose

    Lord, Please don’t stand off to the sideWhile someone aims for my head and firesBefore I remember that I have legs. Do not turn meInto another lump of coalTo fuel the war machines of either faction. Do not reduce me to the sparkIn a soldier’s eye as they gut the enemyWith a blade as sharp…