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the heart’s response to “it is that deep”
“Parents fight — my gut reacts. Fascists get elected — my gut reacts. The magnitude rarely differs. The severity is usually paramount. […] That is why I feel bewildered when onlookers of my high-strung dismay dare to tell me It’s Not That Deep. How can nothing affect you so viscerally? How can you watch your…
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Queen on No Kings Eve
My gravel moat is a fascinating installation. More of a project than a piece. It’s best observed from ivory towers. Best seen while perched precarious. Each pebble, a prince of the universe. I long to see a certain chariot trample them. Only room for one prince in my palace, mind. And this grey moat is…
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Peter’s Denial
Jesus Christ, I kissed your fucking portrait face when I could see the soldier wasn’t looking. Little pecks, nothing nasty, left no marks; I made sure.
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Grand Old Jack | Spelling it Out #1
What’s Grand Old Jack? I recently submitted my poem Grand Old Jack to citizen trans* project, which highlights trans and gender non-conforming people’s responses to living in These Unprecedented Times. This piece was first drafted in January, just before I became bedridden for a week and ended up writing a thicc multi-paragraph prose piece that…
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Duty Peels Off Sunk-Cost Fallacy
A potato skin curls in your spoon Her starch sisters wish her farewell An onion joins, the thick broth binds The chew is wet hide under tooth Each season present — Sage, savory thyme Peppered beef hunks Soaked sponge potato chunks Carroty currency lingers behind A mouthful of skin isn’t home The meat…
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my gut reaction to “it’s not that deep”
I have this sense for when something really bad or otherwise monumental is happening, or about to happen. I can feel the cortisol shoot through my gut. My hands yearn to claw dirt, my feet clench. It’s that bungee plunge that never returns. It’s always powerful, never preventable. It paralyzes me — and often, I…
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reflection of a reflection of a projection
In my first-year actors’ showcase, all the way back in 2020, everyone picked a word they wanted their solo performance to reflect. Accompanied by the published poems or monologues of our choice, each combination of Word and Words Recited was key to providing the audience insight to every newest member of the acting program. My…
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A Love Letter from Frost, Sheldrake, Warbucks, and Associates
“Nothing gold can stay.” You might not want to shine anymore, and maybe your time is glint as gold. (I see this as a good thing.) Can’t regret the sunset when it winks away. Choose a new more useful than gold, more lasting, more substantial. “I wanna be soil.” Yes, and, allow yourself to change…
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to the Red-voter woman in the art class I model for:
You have no idea how happy I am. I don’t think you could understand why. I, as left as they come, and visibly queer You, staunch in your Midwestern motherhood Ideologically, we’re on altogether different playing fields But we meet in the same room — You, for education I, for money In mutual…
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“I was critiquing my words and I am losing my religion” | notes from my laptop
Date: June 23, 2024 So yeah I understand how monks and shit will be celibate because they don’t want their bodies “tainted” with other people’s energy. I certainly don’t want my body to be “tainted” either. That’s not the right wording for what I feel it is, but that’s the wording I’ve got currently. It…
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