Sometimes going home is a sharp prod to the wound. Sometimes it is being doused in sour water.

The stench lingers for days after. Fetid. Rotten. I scrub with books. With walking in the park. With naps and self-compassion journaling and Queer Eye on Netflix. It helps some, but move a certain way, and the odor emanates again.

I feel self-conscious ( Read more... )

mistletoe gloats proud and green
in the paleness of winter

shoot some down, mama says
Christmas is coming

why, mama?
there are already
unwanted kisses here

but no one notices
in the flush of food
and gifts and laughter

I dip outside to cool air and beloved oak
long ago, it lost a limb to something like this

I press my cheek to the cavity, residual
bark ( Read more... )

Ocean Isle beach. It's late night in the middle of October. I feel warm in my oversized hoodie, but the wind against my face keeps me free.

It's so quiet and big out here.

Brian collects shells by the light of his phone. I trot ahead toward the pier where crossbeams glow. Lights from above bounce again off the water, sea green reflections dance on ( Read more... )

Finding and re-reading this hit me hard. I'll go back in and do a closer re-read sometime. Woof.

( Read more... )

Queer Eye in Tokyo, Episode 2: Crazy in Love
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=woBXjScA0s0

Jonathan Van Ness (JVN) and Kan 30:00-34:00

Kan: In Toyko, I care more about what other people think of me.

JVN: Because…

KAN: Because people don’t directly say anything to you, but there are rules and you have to obey the rules. If you don’t do that, then you’ ( Read more... )

Yesterday's laughter angles around partitions of memory. The humor dissipates in a maze of dissonance.

What distortions fill this place.

There, one frame to the left, waits a girl skewed wide. Shame drips from the curdled milk of her cheeks to join puddles by her feet.

Girl to the right warbles in the pane, forehead bulbous, body blurred as though ( Read more... )

Election day, up early.

Peace is the smiling face of the woman at the registration booth. Connection is a few words of humorous good will exchanged with the woman who gives me my sticker. (She won't remember me, but that moment will sustain me for days).

The polling place is a church, and the ambiance is calm and accepting. I do not associate the ( Read more... )

You spit the seed carelessly
Not expecting it to root
Now untamed grief climbs my spine
And I am wrecked with fruit

No scarecrow could deter
Those who would eat their fill
My dreams, unwatered houseplants,
Line the window sill

The leaf, a rodent scratching across
Pitch-dark roadway

October skies, a week of rain
The river’s muddy face spills
Shamed secrets to the skeletons
Tucked away in basement closets

This weather gets inside a person
My mouth grey and chilling
Breathing its sickness
On the faces of passersby

So, I am sitting in the food court drinking a coffee and reading for class, and these two young women come up to me.

They're girlish, one sporting a grunge look and the other teen-elegant in a pea coat with a button on the lapel. I can't tell what it says but I detect colors that remind me of the Mexican flag and the word "international."

When they ( Read more... )