As I think about the act of trimming excesses and formulating aesthetic definitions, I wonder how all of those haircuts and all of those men have "shaped" me. What did they cut off beyond my hair?
Going Bald
Category: Sexuality
(Re)Consideration
I. In July sun and burgundy car, I breathe 1985 in 11 year lungs, riding in silence. In our grief we bump against each other. This is kindling. This is dry wood. There is fire to burn. She has misplaced a son she never knew. And despite having his location, can never seem to find … Continue reading (Re)Consideration
(In)Difference
tell yourself the man who eyed your thighs in short shorts shouting FAG! from caprice window wanted nothing more than to touch you or be touched but long ago lost freedom of language: gift of mothertongues made serpents by men split down the middle by he who fears the power of her … Continue reading (In)Difference
Rituals of a Son
in his suicide forest i collected seeds and grew a garden inside myself thick with wilted things he is a reaper unsated an unworthy god who harvests the white of my bone and scatters soul-ash and grief as feed for the coming he manicures the place in me where men lay down to die a … Continue reading Rituals of a Son
Scarification: Making a Mountain/Man
he raised the andes in my thigh an endless chain of high pitched malice strewn across the scorched earth of my memory there are rivers moving among structures of calamity those mountainous obstructions that go against the view they run to everywhere i am a swollen thing. large through the kindness of enmity still flowing a … Continue reading Scarification: Making a Mountain/Man
black flesh / black feeling
i give him my throat of little importance emptied it of meaning the flesh of his fingers is language like whispered words of need and i am an arrangement of needs in the hands of an answer i give him my … Continue reading black flesh / black feeling
Beautiful Suicide
i avoid your embrace for fear of immolation but today decided to die to feel the flesh melt from my bones we are grown black boys in white socks dragging feet across carpet we hide prophet smiles because we know the same secret we know that when finger meets flesh we … Continue reading Beautiful Suicide
