I have witnessed the delight that lights the faces of small boys when they tromple delicate blossoms in their beds, crush insects with blunt tools, or torment each other with cruel words and bare knuckles. As boys grow into men, their impulses and urges grow along side them. My youth was consumed with fear of brutal men. I have searched my whole life for a help-mate that looks upon me as an equal.  I found haven with kind men who have no other means of communication than cutting words and heavy hands. I have loved good men who worked hard, provided stability, necessities, and who have stood against the forces of the world to protect the fragile beings they care for. In turn, they have rebuked my frailty. I have lived a life consumed with the creation of offensive and defensive strategies to protect what is gentle in me. I have grown harder, sharper, colder, and more calloused under the constant weight of insults and degradations.

In you…and only you…I see the nature of man as it he supposed to be. Well-formed and beautiful. Strong, but mindful of the responsibility strength bestows. Logical, but aware of ebb and flow of emotion. Sympathetic, but not patronizing. I have bathed in your sweet words and been reborn in their image. 

All these years spent wandering, waiting, watching, patiently biding my time have been rewarded with your smile and the touch of your hand against my wrist. You wonder if I would stay. If I would remain stone-like and unmovable in your arms. If I would push through you or consume you with my formidable fraudulent personality. You see me as a force of nature; wild and unpredictable as a summer storm front marching across the landscape of your world.

You have seen me without my clothes, but you have not seen me naked. To undress a persona is a frightening thing. To reveal the thin, scarred flesh shames me and gives you power to exploit my weakest joints and most tender bruises. I have lived a life with brutal men. I became one of them.

But, I don’t want to be.

You could strip me. You could peel back the garments of fear and distrust. You could release me from the tyranny of other mens’ criticisms. You lack brutality. You could tame the storm with your soft voice and firm hands alone.

And I’d be grateful for the scant hope, the tiny chance to be who I was meant to be. I’d share my gratitude daily. Nothing changes a person more than the genuine goodness of another.

But, you won’t. Time has made a beast of me and no man seeks a beast for a bride.

you aren’t seeing

i am  morphing, molting…
you see the chrysalis cracking..
you can not see the wings…
they will be new to you.

(despite the preliminary entomology—
I am without taxonomy).

 If you wait… if you’re as patient with me

as I have been with you…

You will find—
—the rare pattern—
the shapes and colors
you’ve been seeking so long

so long

to pollinate your garden.

we want the same thing

I want a tribe. I want infants on hips, toddlers around ankles, teens bickering in hallways —-, Honored Matriarchs, Endearing Grandfathers and Wisened Uncles extending outwards in all directions —- a collective culture of our unique traditions and values —- decades of eating the same meals at the same tables. I’ve had no rest. I’ve traveled so far… so long…

Where…where is acceptance? Where is the starting place?

Why can’t we build the first primitive shelters together?

Am I so different?

"I’d rather have my heart broken
than have to continue as I am;
unwanted, unloved, untouched….

— (via graciouswords)

"Open your windows
and listen to the night bleed
your name from my mouth."

— Peregrine (via youreyesblazeout)

I can not sleep so full of you—
I have wiped you from my eyes
a dozen times
and there
I brush away your lips
and still they rest on mine—
I can not sleep so full of you—
with my body so full of daybreak.

"It’s not the thing that you do dear, it’s thing that you leave undone, that will bring a bit of heartache, at the setting of the sun."

— Someone else’s grandmother.

Let’s speak directly

You are waves around my ankles—
like Botticelli birthed Venus, I am delivered to you
time and again.
Rhythmic as breath.

The water grasps while retreating,
reaching only as it withdraws..
The gentle suck and swell of tides.

How can you love the sun?
How can you love the sun and not
the hot, red, heat of a lesser body?

I just walked over my own cyber grave.


How many times
did we stand between the door
and midnight,
exhaling pale ringlets
into the street light—

Two summer may flies
floated down from the black—
we barely noticed them.




across the world…
lights flicker out.

"Not many things in life are as simple and earnestly made as a good kitchen table."

this is the sound—
  the marching feet stepping out the time,
 the decades in which
  our nation fell in on itself,
 explosively folded into decline—
of the drumbeat.

Nothing ruins a game like an existential crisis.  Thanks Philosophy majors for sharing!

"Discovery consists in seeing what everybody has seen and thinking what nobody has thought."

— Albert von Szent-Gyorgyi (1898-1986) Hungarian Biochemist 1937 Nobel Prize for Physiology