finding clarity once again
share your joys, needs, and anxieties in my ask.
we are meant to pray for one another.
Away, abdomens flaring—
The brief, nomadic intervals."
Neil Fischer, from “[As if the moon could haul through you]”
pick a number. i'll tell you my favorite part about your blog!
1. the meaning behind my URL
2. weaknesses
3. best friend(s)
4. last time i cried & why5. piercings i have
6. favorite music
7. biggest turn off(s)8. fact about my sex life9. tattoos i want10. biggest turn on(s)
11. age
12. ideas of a perfect date13. life goal(s)
14. piercing(s) i want15. relationship status
16. favorite movie17. a fact about my life
18. a fear19. never have i ever …20. how did you first notice the last person you kissed?
Women who lie alone at midnight
sending a postcard bearing
the face of a bawling infant
who cries “I am for the new”
Women who lie alone at midnight
reciting the names of shoes
Women who lie alone at midnight
spurting unjustified tears,
the kind that run sideways
never reaching the mouth,
the kind you cannot swallow
Women who lie alone at midnight
singing breast away the burden of my tender
and afterwards burp
Women who lie alone at midnight
obeying the laws of physics
Women who let their dreams curl at the end
Women in a monastery of flamingos
mary ruefle (from women in labor)
ii. “… and the designation of the division.”
Mons: venus-field held horizon by sharp
fuckless months, field lain fallow. I lost him.
I did not love. Because bitterness lit me
strung tongue to gut. Because god loved
the way the snake shook shine into the tree,
leavening air with matte magnolia leaves.
My mouth opened to ask the snake’s name.
Like his tongue from which each word went
each way the meaning bent—leading me
the way back—, I never doubted what I didn’t
change down to the syllable, molecule,
shift between dahlia and dalliance, male to
woman, behold, becoming her, became me.
The tree wept cheap greenery; the snake left
what was knowledge, what was the given
matter: until Adam found me again, I put
weeping even inside myself: I knew
I could not explain I saw the end of things
static in anxious limitless rage. It was male,
and yet Adam found me the way language
meant to uncover: gladly he lent his mouth,
his hands, husband one, and one lover,
here the church, here the steeple: knuckles knelt,
o Deus, I remember: Self and Other,
and between us every elegy, all the fallen
language that couldn’t hold its own
and wouldn’t give it back, had no flesh
except how long dust keeps our alphabets.
It came alive outside the mind, intellect.
I loved it. He could not touch me there.
