Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
Hold still while I rape you Set you on fire Slap you down Don’t move Or dream No starlight for you Receive me whenever I must Relieve my rage and lust Your body belongs to me And your soul belongs to god You own nothing Not even the dirt on Read more
There are no secrets. It’s just that many do not see the obvious. I hate it when people deny the obvious. Sometimes I hate the obvious, too. And here I am with my flashlight. Not flood lights. Not even a torch. Day after day we stumble around cloaked in insignificance, Read more
Last night I had a dream I flew A flying fish, I leapt from fountains, from sacred pools long and blue. I Dreamt I hung, then plunged as from a mountain. From somewhere there was singing. From somewhere there were birds. From somewhere there was ringing. From somewhere a flight Read more
Dusk covers the interstate Beyond the plate glass window Semi-trailer trucks accelerate and roar Driving over daylight savings time The distant sound of comfort I remember. Engines fade On the stairway, turning keys Amber scents and shadows Lost touch, tracing soft and supple To my left and to my right Read more
Sorrow sings to men who sleep with guns Time erodes land to dust and bodies to bone Sky loses color, rivers run black How can masculinity survive? Who says it has to? My ovaries are not your mistress My hands are not your maid If you want to preach natural Read more
*Opening of a short story entitled ‘Camille’ focusing on a perceived vampire of the Victorian era, Camille Monfort. Men flock to me as hungry birds, ravenous for otherness, an exotic morsel to devour. I’m a unique flower, one that grows on mountaintops, cast away from all others that pale in Read more
Survive; Survivor; Survived. What does it mean? Is it what they survived? Or what we survived? What I survived? That’s definable – the ‘what’; Danger, violence, terror. The suffocating distress of it. But what does surviving look like? Is it still being alive? Is it still carrying on? Is it Read more
At breakfast, you tell me the world cannot be held with words—it must be shaped like a cave painting that accepts its life as a slice of the whole. Words are ambitious, you say, they imagine they can contain whatever I yearn to contain. Words are a beautiful bit in Read more