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So I’m a Mexican trans woman writer and you should buy my books here:
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bird bath
Collected in drops
at the end of august
pools of vinegar
or little insects
orbiting a dish
it’s all like a sheet, a yellow sheet
that caught its yellow
from days and days
back then
when I lost track
of how I smell
and the flowers were small
and had no smell
I could sit in the dirt and spit seeds for hours.
I could sit in the dirt my whole long life.
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Sixth Finch - Summer 2015 - Max Cohen - IGNATZ →
There’s a blue moon out tonight, so here’s my poem about a blue moon.
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Sixth Finch - Summer 2015 →
happy to have poems from my book PINK MUSEUM (this summer! big lucks!) in Sixth Finch, with my favourite Max, Max Cohen.
I worked really hard to be her favorite Max and many Maxes died so, y’know, maybe respect their sacrifice by checking out this amazing issue
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Anyway, if you’re a trans woman of color you should really talk to us about writing/submitting a story for the anthology, even if you’re not an experienced writer, because it’s honestly a good way to make some money and help create a groundbreaking book that will help other trans women. Message me or email us at twocanthology@gmail.com. If you’re interested, our deadline is flexible, so you can take a few more weeks to send in your work.
Share this post! Support trans women of color!
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Pony & BB maybe in love circa 1995
Written after reading Rachael Katz’ lovely new chapbook Pony at the Super which everyone with a heart should buy.
I think I’m in love
with her sticky eyeballsthe bit of skin
that stays pulled
so you can see the pulling.I think my head
is 90% wet spots
seeking wet spots.In the boiler room
we spend no time
thinking “whyon earth is there
a boiler room
here.”Instead it’s
“do tongues
taste like orangesor do oranges
taste like tonguesor is it
just
you?”
reblogging for edits!
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Pony & BB maybe in love circa 1995
Written after reading Rachael Katz’ lovely new chapbook Pony at the Super which everyone with a heart should buy.
I think I’m in love
with her sticky eyeballs
the bit of skin
that stays pulled
so you can see the pulling.
I think my head
is 90% wet spots
seeking wet spots.
In the boiler room
we spend no time
thinking “why
on earth is there
a boiler room
here.”
Instead it’s
“do tongues
taste like oranges
or do oranges
taste like tongues
or is it
just
you?”
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living is hard but i’m glad my tumblr friends are still there and I hope you’re all doing ok and smiling when you can.
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Somnambulist
you can die first
in Poland
in a sunk car
so much faith
in a body’s ability
to displace
water—
hey D
how
is it possible?
to convey
“I never thought I’d listen to you again”
but you can’t—
oh,
that choking sound
when he changes key
when the key turns
(move K)
forward &
a real
fast
stop.
most songs in san—
come out of dead kids,
the ones
that stand real loud
when they stood.
D I can hear your eyes move
in this wet brown world.
I know
we’re old but we’re old together.
it’s a funny life.
you can fall back in
further down
than you think.
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Invalid Thoughts on the End of the World →
Today’s poet: mad prophet Kellen Williams. One of the founding members of drunk poets, he is also our first expatriate, having moved to the vibrant shores of san antonio mere months ago. As a result, his future contributions will be spotty; but then, this is to be expected from a man who…
Kellen Williams is dead.
After I dropped out of Emerson, around 2006 or so, I stopped writing for a long time. It wasn’t until I met Kellen Williams and James Eidson, and we started our little writing group together, that I was inspired to write again. I owe everything about where I’m at now to that little group.
I was trying to be clever in this bio I wrote before the poem; the fact is that Kellen had this incredibly infectious creative spirit, something that could fire up anyone to just make something, anything. He was always moving forward.
We lost touch after he moved away, unfortunately. I don’t even know how he died. It feels impossible to believe that someone so lit up could ever go dark.
Rest in peace, Kellen.
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