she sits in the crooked branches of a maple tree
surveying the wilderness that surrounds her ordinary body.
she imagines herself strong and fast like a horse
with soft ebony eyes and muscled flesh.
the darkened windows in town see nothing.
burned ashes of the dead after battle
their charred remains pungent in the air
low moans of the wounded enter her […]
why they left or came.
did they break like waves on the shores of
where did they land?
where did they come from?
you say it doesn’t matter.
pores are empty spaces on our flesh.
mine are filled with questions about
is it true you don’t remember
you say it doesn’t matter.
i’ve heard your scream in dark houses
with your eyes wide […]
(i wrote this around 2005, visit this site when i was stuck in a cycle of poverty, homelessness and exclusion.)
i’ve been struggling with this article for months now. there are so many things that i need to say about ableism and i don’t even know where other people are at in thinking about this […]
this poem may be triggering for survivors of abuse and violence
i’m yeshua on the cross
nailed to this unholy body
stiff in my pain
i cry out
why hast thou forsaken me?
deliver me home!
somewhere i am real
not corroded and broken
fake and inauthentic
take me somewhere there are no stories
no ritual abuse hysteria
no corpses crying out to me
“we are real. […]
i was born from a wound
ripped open womb
i was born a wound
from my mother’s engorged womb
we left the hospital bloody
ripe with centuries of battles unsung
no museum documents
this unrelenting war
on veterans day we are not honored
for emerging still living from its trenches
we, the survivors
honor the scars of our breaking
An open letter to rape culture.
You have silenced too many of us for too long! this is all out fucken WAR, internist man, and you are gonna lose! I am tired of standing in shame, stooped over and eyes closed. I do not weaken in your everpresence, rape culture. I do not let your […]
my paper bag face magnified
mercilessly in the looking glass.
honey slides seamlessly down my
features searching under its golden
hues for the tangle of my history—
never look a gift face in the mouth.
i drool, letting it dangle dangerously
over the porcelain—ravenously
hunting for traces of homelands
etched into the crevices of my reflection.
a lot of nights I spend hours treating symptoms that are keeping me from falling asleep.
I still don’t see my way through this, refractionist but I’m focusing on radical acceptance and being happy. it’s weird, order because I think I’m a lot happier than most people even though I’m in a pretty extreme […]
i wait for that magic moment when
pain and my exhaustion meet,
and exhaustion triumphs.
when i feel the emptiness that surrounds me
the hole i’m in looms
the darkness brings questions and doubts
the weight of my history bears down on me
late at night
pain and i
create and destroy
and i, the fool,
if this poem
if this poem was a magpie
it would steal your jewelry
and leave you laughing
and if it was a feather
it would glide gently across
your exquisite face
if this poem was made of gold
my love would melt it into
a luminescent puddle
and if this poem was made of fire
it would keep you warm
all your days and nights
and you […]