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Persimmons of another tree: a transfem’s song of love and rejuvenation
“When I say room I mean this space that contains me. / When I say this space that contains me I mean I fill this space. / When I say I fill this space I mean this space is my body.”
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To cleanse
“I consider cleaning it / But a marble pattern of the last remnants of you is reassuring to stare down at ”
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On Orange Juice
“…poetry ploughshares tombstones and headstones and footstones and no-stones, makes suffering beautiful and tasty…”
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Nature’s Favorite Hue
“When are you going to honor the body that grips your soul, and bask in being whole?”
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ON WAR AND WRITTEN LANGUAGE
“the human can only know themselves to be human / because we condemn the three dimensions / of our thoughts”
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Effect of Fog
“I can’t wake up from the things I wanted– / I can’t ever bring myself to come clean.”