To be wed ceremonies
Traditionally brisk time
Wintery- divine sacred
rituals
She elevates every success to the
          Sublime
Inner power bells of chime

Sometimes resistance
Need more patience


Internal flame Solstice
Too many humans come
with a price looking into
envision unto whatever will-do
Internal flame nowhere to be tamed
Who is to blame no red carpet
Why do they call it fame?

Winter Solstice chilled wine
   Shared/unpaired/homebound
      On- our- own- time
Christmas time prayer of hope
Feeling land-locked on tight rope
All disguises internal flame bruises
Masquerade party

On a  deserted Island all booked
But where are the people shell- shocked

Dreams are dangerous internal fire
Sleepwalked no life desired
Some people have it all well- stocked
In the apartment minds go deadlocked
Looking out of a window if we can only
see the same beautiful sky
So many endangered species
no
        wings  
                      to- fly

Looking at the bottom
the big family dish
My only wish
Seeing our loved ones
In a starfish

The starfish
must throw out
its stomach
to digest
its food.

In this sense,
the starfish and I
are similar.

To learn,
I must
throw out my brain;
it is only through
foolishness
that I truly
begin to understand.
But how many lessons,
once learned,
can be used?

He stared down
                into the dark, twisting waves, as if
a voice spoke to him from
                                                         the watery depths
                             below.

                                            It seemed to pull him in and
                                                                                              pool in him.
It swam circles
          in his curiosity.

The Sun stabbed at the waves, washing rainbows     over
glimmering abalone.
                Translucent bubbles danced
in its light.
Fishbones lay quietly on the ocean floor, forgotten.
                                                                                   Starfish whispered to him, tales
of how they had lost their arms to the
                      creatures that walk in the sun.

                                                        Urchins complained about the oil pooling in their waters.
Sharks gave him the silent treatment.
And despite the fact that he too had legs and walked in the sunlight,

                               he knew he was not made for the sun,
                      but for the sea.
                                                            And the waves whispered his name with
salt and foam.

Physical death is permanent.
But emotional death,
(numbness, "feeling dead inside)
Is a starfish.
It can grow back
through a process called support

I’m burning the candle
But not at both ends
No, for in fact I have five
I’m like an old star
Ready to explode
Plain sick of being alive
Helping her and helping him
Ignoring myself for the sake of them
Some days I wonder
“Will I ever be true?”
When that day comes
Boy, will that feeling be new
It starts in my toes
Weary from walking
Igniting my fingers
Busy writing and talking
Then it gets to my head
As it makes its way down
Warming my heart
Burning my frown
I’m not saying that I want to die
But I’m spread so thin
I think “why shouldn’t I”

Cut and gone.
It was easy.

Why?
you would ask.
Cut and gone.
It was easy.


You see,
for some trans folk,
most I dare say,
it's not cut and gone.
Your name,
the way people used to call you,
to know you
to be with you.
It's not easy.

That's why,
many of us
grow multiple heads.
One for my family who wouldn't love me,
one for my closest friend, whom I trust;
one for the random person who reads my poetry online...
I'm fed up with it.
I don't want to keep having multiple heads,
I want my family to know me for who I am,
not the head I made out of their memories.
I want to be me,
and I'm Nis.
That's why I came out on twitter,
that's why I'm erasing this pen name
and letting my true head speak,
that's why I will be soon cutting contact
with those that refuse to see me for who I am.

This is the end of Headless Starfish,
but I'm not gone,
so be it.
I cut it,
and it is gone.

the starfish embodies
shape on clear moon and flops to
the marked and old sand

I wish I was there again.
I wish everything that’s in my head got lost at sea,
that all I could taste was salty air.
I wish I was walking in the little shops
that all sold seashells and starfish.
I wish everywhere I was I could hear the crashing tide;
calling me back to the cold, fresh, water.
I wish my feet were buried in warm sand,
hiding from the chilling breeze.
I wish I was where time slowed to a stop,
where I had all the time in the world.
I wish I was staring into a never ending horizon,
where I wasn’t always running to catch up.
Where all I had to do was breathe in and breathe out.