Emily as the Lavender Irises Burst
Cedar-bound & watching the sky lose a battle to Emily’s carving, I am lightning working a way through the wood & chasing her colors as they take over the night.
Read MoreEmily as if It is Mercy
Bucket fair, as in as much fairness as one bucket can hold, the parts of me that slosh around have been contained by Emily & her strength of arm, her patience above the well, to not dip or dump the bucket in the returning dark, is verse, is hymn, is mercy. If she would only back away from the narrowing liquid that once took my...
Read MoreFor my Student on the Question to Stay a Man
Spoiled with comfort, yet unquestioned in so much as my own sexual targets & only at war with my penis in so far as the process of aging, I was rocked back by a student who asked, not about a personal narrative essay, but about his personhood, the choice of his gender, the roaming, the rolling of where his heart stood, weak-ankled, always falling, never sure of a landing. He didn’t even really want to decide anything. He just wanted calm. I spoke or did my best to speak about love, about sex and changing desires, about how certainly the pressure he felt to choose one thing was...
Read MoreA Bare Fist of Snow
Winter’s history, the lion never showed, the skin took the brunt of numbing.
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