Tag Archives: family

let the night be dark

broken bone,
the body is pain
I met you, leaving the light on
heavy heart
veins hung on hands
as lonely tangled banners
letting out that heavy lovin’ shit
a broken heart build is slow

broken bones, I know your body is pain

let the night be dark
you won’t forget your light on

woodsmoke, fall air
I know you ain’t used to it
empty cabinets, fingers over
father’s strings
I know you ain’t used to it

let the night be dark,
you won’t forget to leave your light on

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27 haiku

Last week I wrote and sent 27 valentines. Inside each of them was a personalized haiku.

—————————

what’re you afraid of?
think of you watching planes land,
and still want a date.

it’s the way you walk,
hands in pocket, attitude,
like me of you, proud.

remember that time,
you kissed me through the window?
yeah, that was hot.

I know you hate love
this is not a valentine,
’cause the paper’s black.

you, soft and simple
a not so stealth apple thief
bones fused, strong, steady.

so what if you’re gay?
I would still sit on your face,
if you asked me to.

I miss your warm chest,
a place to curl, and yet,
I’m happy you’re well.

tiny little tulip
spry, even-paced and lovely,
not so secret bitch.

revealed your grey
so proud of your graceful strength
love you more than words.

sweet and gentle man,
wish for you soft fur of dog
snow white, with black nose.

such lovely ladies
miss those Betty Davis eyes
come visit some time.

midnight doughnut fight
with you turning vegetable
and love you always.

hot honey hearts,
we let each other under
our precious gold manes.

loved you for your mind,
even more your tender heart
but you still a bitch.

my O. G. lady,
ink-stained apron, golden braids,
and deep whale clicks.

solid foundation,
hope you know that I love you,
miss and cherish you.

glowing like glitter,
your enormous loving heart
no haiku could hold.

how can you leave me?
thousand years I will suffer
without your cute butt.

long grounded fingers,
showing me the light inside
how can I repay?

I hate the way you drive,
but love your sweet face
so it evens out.

I love you so much,
what would I do without you?
I mean, no homo.

not many like you,
a sun in this frigid North,
please don’t ever stop.

your voice ecstasy,
wild stallion on stage
show me your package?

lovely, fat and hot
give us clothes to shake it in,
and love ourselves more.

you, lion tamer
amazing sense of humor,
miss our morning laughs.

lovely precious cub,
I am not longer afraid
to say I love you.

it’s getting warmer
summer comes first in Fairbanks,
I’d let you come first.


egan saves christmas

Things with Friend had deflated a few days into the trip, with our plans to go to Forks, WA cancelled even sooner. Little Bird was upset that I was sleeping with her and other people at the same time and had asked me to find another place to stay. So I was laying on the big couch at Egan’s house fussing with my waistband. Cramping and singing quietly along to an old Tori Amos VHS , the sugar skulls on the mantle my audience. I felt like my guts were going to fall out, but I was happy. I was cradling a really really stong cup of coffee from the french press,watching the flecks of almond and coffee grounds swirling all together and knowing that the caffine might actually be making me feel worse.  I love that Tori looks like she’s getting off when she sings. She was singing about roses and I thought about all the roses in Portland, now dead wet rolled up brown pieces of paper. I thought of the gigantic dead sunflower stalks across the street with their squishy white button tops. Everyone talks shit about the gloomy, rainy Portland winters, but I love it. I thought about how I was to return home in a few days and how nothing on this trip had gone as planned. “You are so cute right now”, Egan said as he came into the living room. I thought he was talking to the cat sleeping on a puzzle. “Just sitting here bleeding and watching Tori…” I smiled and thought yeah, this is exactly where I need to be right now.

Later, I felt better and I rode the bus down to the Hollywood district to the dog daycare I used to work at. My ex co-worker had arranged to sneak me in to see some of my old dog friends. There he was, Quincy, my four year old vizsla boyfriend. He remembered me and so did all the others. It was an amazing feeling to be back with those dogs I had cared about so much.

I left the daycare with a spring in my step and sang out loud walking on the overpass on my way to meet Egan. We met outside Grand Central and he handed me half a grilled cheese because he thought I might be hungry. I thought I might marry him. We caught the MAX downtown and sat so that everything rushed by backwards. Pioneer square looked like a movie, all of the lights and people rushing around christmas shopping . We talked about Aden and love and sex and gender and the past and the future. Egan is my favorite Leo of all time and every time we spend time together I am reminded of how amazing he truly is.

We stopped by Jackpot where he bought a special Efterklang record he was really excited about. After some time at Powells we headed to the bus and were stopped by an old friend from Anchorage who called to us out of the fancy bar she worked at in SW. She invited us in and gave us beer. We gave each other the cliff notes of our life and showed off new tattoos. “This is why I love Portland. Portland just gave us free beer!” I shouted as Egan and I ran to catch the bus.

Over the next two days we watched the Efterklang DVD that came with the record at least three times and I became a fan. I finished the scarf I was knitting for Friend that I had put so much energy into, like a metaphor. And I gave it to Egan as a token of my appreciation for saving my vacation with all the laughter and love.

On Christmas Eve Elena came over and watched Queen of the Damned with me. I gave them a speculum I had stolen from the hospital and we talked about love, relationships, abuse, celibacy and the emotional space we’ve had between us this past year.

On Christmas day I packed up my things, ate too much great food, and laughed with good people. As Egan drove me to the airport all I could think over and over was

How can I leave you? HOW CAN I LEAVE YOU?


new years eve

Survived a turbulent (productive) therapy session.

Appreciated the hella fat glowing moon.

Met four gorgeous and amazing queer women on the dance floor.

Did not drink.

Wore really gaudy earrings. And crimped hair.

Laughed so hard I cried.

Gained a new sense of hope.

Fell asleep while masturbating, laughing exausted, exclaiming:

I found the dykes!


a version of home

What did it feel like?

It was more than physical pleasure, and different than regular penetration. I felt out of my body and I felt more in my body than I ever have before. I thought about birth, death, coming. But I didn’t even want to come, I just didn’t want it to end. The movement, the pushing, the twisting, the wetness of the lube on your hands. A version of home. I trusted you completely, but I was still a little scared. “Almost” you told me later looking at your hands.

It wasn’t our first time, but it was our first time face to face. I thought about how nice my First Time might have been if it had been with you.

Your nose ring kept falling out and you let me ride you on top. It felt amazing to hold you so close to me. Your body hard and soft at once. I was reminded of how nice it can be to fuck your friends. We kissed hard and soft. You pinned me back and pulled me back into your arms, I felt drunk. You bit my shoulder too hard, but I secretly liked the mark it left. We fucked with the lights on and I noticed scars, tattoos I hadn’t seen before. You made faces you hadn’t shown me before. Pressing up against you in the secret attic, I didn’t tell you about a forgotten crush rekindling inside me. You seemed to have enough on your plate.

In the morning you made us coffee and waffles and we talked about family and racism and cultural appropriation and cats and coming out. Outside it was dreary and drippy and dark, but I felt hopeful despite it. You made me feel sexy and respected and interesting. I walked home with music and noticed buildings and windows I hadn’t before.

On Christmas day there was bright sun above the trees outside the window of the empty bus. I watched the store fronts and people pass as I rode through parts of Portland I’d never really been through before. Hiking up my sparkly tights walking from the bus stop, I thought about holding your hand. I fantasized about you riding up on your bike as I clapped my boots down Interstate. You’d flash me that intoxicating smile and I’d think about how good you look in eyeliner. And you’d be thinking what I’m thinking: that I’m leaving today and it’s our last chance to make out. And you’d just kiss me right there and we’d laugh all the way to the party.


brunch

I went to a birthday party today over brunch. A vegan and gluten-free feast. Some of the people I knew, and some of them not. I was anxious because I hate small talk, it makes me so uncomfortable. I feel like strangers ask me questions just to hear themselves talk. I feel boring when I tell people what I do and I feel stupid when I tell them that I’m not in school because I can’t afford it right now. I glued myself to Kevin and Honey Bucket until they had to leave and I mostly had to fend for myself. I was anxious because the house was very fancy. Lots of art and rugs. Alaskana. 

I went to the sitting room to put my card with the others and caught sight of the view out of the large windows. I pressed my forhead against the glass. The freezing Kenai Peninsula. It resembled the bluffs in Portland in some strange way. The window fogged with my breath. I thought of my mother. I remembered I was not in a place where it was appropriate to cry. I wondered if the tree I was looking at was a black spruce. I wondered about the foot prints in the snow. I tried to picture where I was oriented on a map. I drew a heart in the condensation and then wondered if I shouldn’t have.

Back in the kitchen and breakfast nook I submitted to the dreaded small talk and it wasn’t that bad. Emiline showed up, my savior. We sunk into a big love seat and talked about teeth and jokes past lovers made at the expense of our sensitivities. We talked about Boycations and Man Rambles and male nudity in film. We talked about our health and highschool and the journeys we made in college, physically and emotionally.

Matthew and Sarah played the banjo and accordian on the fireplace. Sarah looks like Portland, I thought. Thin flannel, thick rimmed glasses, greasy boyish haircut. She may be the only one in all of Anchorage. It occurred to me that this brunch, this vegan brunch with young people playing covers of Hurray for the Riff Raff, the beards, the flannel, the fact that almost half of the people there were queer, this might be the best of what is here. If this is all there is, I thought, at least I have found it.

Later some of the guests left, some helped clean up. I watched the lady of the house scrape a bowl full of left over cream cheese and a whole stick of left over butter into the garbage disposal. I talked to one of the lingering guests about whether or not God has lips, or any erogenous zones for that matter. We talked about wanting to visit villages but not wanting to live there. I showed him my leg tattoos. I told him about my grandfather’s memorial and it seemed like maybe his eyes got wet for some secret reason. I felt attracted to him. I made up a rule that it was ok to get a crush on someone who was a gender different from ones you normally go for if it was over the holidays.

The birthday girl opened her gifts and cards. I gave her a patch with a bike on it, a tube of glitter glue and a pin that says “I ❤ female orgasm”. Her parents gave her remote start for her car and $1000. I started to realize this friend of mine came from a  class background much different than mine. I hadn’t thought much about her background before. I thought about what I could do with $1000. 

My tires spun in the deep snow as I maneuvered out of the suburban winter hideaway. I passed my old elementary school. Everything looked so different. All the trees cut and a shopping center I didn’t even know existed. I put on that Des Ark CD I’ve been trying to take a break from so I won’t stop liking it from listening too much. I sang along and my voice sounded raspy and I liked it. I thought about my Holiday Crush. I thought about hating feeling stuck up here. I started to get anxious about What I’m Doing With My Life and The Next Step. But then I thought about my mom, and felt an unfamiliar a sense of calm. I realized that right now I’m exactly where I need to be.


a love poem

I stand in the natural food section looking at chocolate. I don’t really know anything about chocolate, but I’m trying to find something made from cocoa that isn’t oppressing someone somewhere. But that’s not even what I care about. Just a thought to distract me from why I am buying chocolate  at all. The one with the raspberries says it has a “love poem” inside and I decide that it’s appropriate. “Give it to someone you love..” it says.

I woke up this morning and it wasn’t a dream that faded like it should have been. My head hurt, dehydrated I suppose.

My aunt says cats are supposed know where people’s tumors are. Mom says Buddhi’s been sleeping on her neck.

I brought her what I thought could help. A big round seed and a pine cone from my house in the Brooklyn neighborhood. A feather and a bit of iridescent shell from the beach, sage Jodie gathered when she was in the desert. She said I could smudge her and I thought that was cute. I fought back tears as she held the sage to her nose. 

I told her not to start treatment over christmas. Wait a week I said, it’s just one week.

We have the same hands. Her soft perfect warm neck. I don’t want to have to wonder how much more time I have with her. I don’t want them to put that toxic shit in her blood. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Kevin got me a travel coffee mug from the thrift store and Emiline has been feeding and watching movies with me.

I’ve had this headache for three days straight. I guess I haven’t been drinking enough water to replace what I’ve been crying out. No matter where my mind circles and races, it comes to the same conclusion. And I am angry and helpless.

Lindsey stood beside me sitting at the kitchen table. Smashed my face into her new puffy jacket with Pepper in her other arm. Her boney hip and belt buckle dug into my shoulder as I sobbed. She said she felt nauseous.

I saw Jodie walking down Spenard in a skirt and no gloves, carrying her sewing machine. I stopped to see if she needed a ride, but the sew ‘n vac was only a block away. She took me into her arms like she always does. I looked into her loving eyes but I couldn’t tell her.

It snowed lastnight. Soft and quiet. It’s snowed so infrequently this winter that each time feels like the first time.