If I could
pinpoint the
exact moment
your breath
touched mine
washed me over
in ocean waves
sea creatures glowing
in delightful recognition
as the seedlings
of connection
shimmied into our being
and, dancing within me
in its own lifeforce
your mind a living,
breathing animal
your heart, purring
and whirring its sacred forces
into my molecular structures
your soul throbbing
in mitochondric pulsing
(oh what
a delicious vibration
of ribosomes)
Between us, we hold
the true treasures
close, in frothy
                       tenderness
a purity of the expanse
of our universe,
swathed in prismatic color
colors that shift,
these fresh hues
for which there are no name
they are lucid and fine-woven
as silk histories
yet deep as earthcore
your eyes, voice
are forever burned
into my own
every day scriptures
that rock my shattered parts
into wholeness
and,
like ancient magic,
I conjure forth
the holy gospel
rising from our bones
every second of
every minute
as our deepest fires
our most secret filth
our murky corners
our darkest hours
we weave into light
brilliant and lustrous
multi-layered in the richest
folds of the earth
and as you place me
upon the shores
of your garland-graced
                              throne
Now I'm alive in a new
kind of light
and
all I can do
is love
        and love
and love

I was born with a deficiency.
& I smile because of it.
Fireworks that light up the sky.
Don’t explode color for me.
The seven colors of the rainbow.
Don’t lay out Roy G Biv for me.
Multifunctional digital cameras.
Don’t upload colorized for me.
The fireworks.
The rainbows.
The cameras.
All come out the same.
Colorless.
I smile because I am used to it.
Because it shows me the world for what it is.
I’m not distracted by the flashing lights.
Or the colorful reflection after the rain.
Not even the still moments of a photo.
So I see what’s real.


I live with a deficiency.
& I smile because of it.
I will never know the color of her hair.
As the wind blows it during a cool summer day.
I will never know the color of her eyes.
As the sun allows them to shine with beauty.
I will never witness her skin tone.
My deficiency doesn’t allow it.
I smile because I’m used to it.
Because it shows me who she really is.
The very essence of what makes her glow.
What my deficiency does allow.
I see her soul.
What her hair cannot conger.
I see her heart.
What her eyes cannot frame.
I see her love.
What her skin cannot contain.
So I see what’s real.

I will die with a deficiency.
& I smile because of it.
When the world becomes fragile.
I won’t see the red of the flames.
When the world becomes damaged.
I won’t see the blue of the flood.
When the world becomes a waste land.
I won’t see the color fade.
Because my deficiency took that a long time ago.
I smile because I’m used to it.
& it made my life beautiful.
Even though I saw black & white.
My canvass was colored with my heart.
& that is where my imagination runs wild.


I was blessed with a deficiency.
& I smile because of it.
Because I knew never to be afraid.

ew you’re on your period
that’s disgusting
and whenever i get a "feminine product"
i have to hide it deep down where nobody sees it
but you see
we live in a world where our own girls are getting *****
i’m a girl, not a *** object
but in the eyes of a ****** that is
exactly
what
i am
but i’m not an object
i am a person
i am a life giver
just imagine if men were as disgusted in **** as they are with periods
in the sixth grade
when the word period was mentioned
the whole room would burst out in laughter
i am a girl
my lady bits bleed
and that’s what makes me strong
and that’s what makes me a young woman
and that’s what will make me a mother one day
so ew you’re on your period
that’s disgusting
is not an insult to me

Cried for help
Except you don't need help
You crave attention
Pulling at heartstrings
For (What the hell is it really for?)
Someone to give you a thought
I guess
Seems futile
You're gonna have to give it back real soon
But I hope it made you feel loved
All that short-lived attention
From all those uninterested  strangers
Whatever gets your rocks off

How sweet it must be
To be loved by a poet
Beauty and laughter immortalised
In honeyed prose
For those
Whom you will not know
Whom you will not meet
Only those whom you will dream of
Only those who will sigh over
Your grace, your love
From the honeyed mouth
Of the poet who had chosen you
As their muse

How sour it must be
To be hated by a poet
Ugliness and rage immortalised
In destroyed prose
For those
Whom you will know
Who you will meet
Only those who will see you
Only those who will cry over
Your disdain, your wrath
From the dry mouth
Of the poet who had chosen you
As their muses

The pantheon of muses
The poet possesses
Will never reveal themselves to the reader
But the reader will already know the glory and infamy
Of the muses the poet possesses
The lovers
Perfection personified
Only known to the unconscious mind
With faces unknown
The enemies
Imps of imperfection
Already known to the waking realm
With more faces than that which can be counted

How bitter it must be
To be a poet
Glorifying and horrifying mistakes
In quickened prose
For those
Whom you love
Whom you hate
Only those who will read of you
Only those who will ignore you
My emotions, my consequences
From the careless mouths
Of the ones who had chosen the poet
As their acquaintance

I hope that the
Bread
Tastes good,
Because I’ve left my
Bones
In “it.”

I’ve left the bones born
Man
And bones born
Woman,
Bones once a baby
And bones now broken,
Bones bitter,
Bones bled,
And soon bits baked
Only by dust,
In “it.”

I hope that it
All
Tastes great,
Because we’ve all chained our
Souls
To “it;”

And “it” will continue to feast,
Come the hours we’d ‘ever starve,
“It” will continue to oppress
And until we say “no!”
So say, "NO!"