"The scent of these armpits—
Taste my sebum and sweat
Let it be an anointing, holy oil
Let it be, your yes: Fiat
Be incarnate with me, please
Inhale my honey, magnolia
perfume, staining your clothes
Let me bleed into you
Kiss me and bear our fruit
—is aroma finer than prayer"
Oct 22, 2025
Oct 22, 2025 at 11:53 AM UTC
I enter, the
smell of sacred stone stings
my heart—bruised piece of ****
I kneel, a fraud
Mea Culpa! Mea Culpa! Mea
Maxima Culpa! I beat my blackened
ribs, taken from Adam's side
I wheeze out JPII's Theology
Everything stings, the
incense, the love, the ringing of
the bells, as God enters me
I wish I knew a desire that was distant
I stand, bow, feel the shame wash
over me and over me, wish
I could be clean, beg 'O God why,
have you forsaken me?'
The tears sponge out the guilt
Leave me wearied and contrite
firmly resolved to continue beating, and
limp as abused dog back to its master
I sit—thanks be to God—
the faces mingle around me, all
fused together in Communion's haze
separate I remain
Oct 19, 2025
Oct 19, 2025 at 1:49 PM UTC
Enter the damp cave
Choke on the cigarette smoke
Then light your own (watch your beard)
Let your eyebrows grow furrowed and mad
Make Whitman proud
Kiss me and smile at the waterfowl
Sweaters, mildewed books, and earthworms
Gentle with the wriggly babe
Barbaric with the stone,
Carve my name, a prayer
Careful with those shadows on the wall
Careful with reality
Leave and you can never return, not truly
Stay and you're a pseudo-poet forever
A coward and a fool---mere mole
Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 11:39 AM UTC
my aisle of the library
made better with you
my breadth of knowledge
expanding with your
wondrous point of view
all people may be
inherently good—
imago deis
but none act like it
so well as you
Jul 31, 2025
Jul 31, 2025 at 2:48 AM UTC
milky twilight waxes
and the lurid, vibrating stars reflect
in the whites of your eyes
you believe there’s something of stardust—
something of god—in all of us
you believe in love
and it shows in your eyes
I too believe (although what kind of faith is it really?)
doesn’t take much religiosity
when I’ve held Love herself in my arms
when you look at me with luminary, star-studded gaze
I know God’s love
and I know I’ve tasted heaven
no longer a question of belief
just a simple acknowledgement
of sheer, perfect goodness
under milky twilight
Jul 31, 2025
Jul 31, 2025 at 12:56 AM UTC
chivalrous and butch,
her rippling soft muscles
open my car door, drive me home
she shyly wishes to touch, to kiss
till I walk through the door
we could be squished
softer now than we've ever been before
yet fuller, more common and true
existing not as pearl but the ocean,
gently lapping on the shore
my lover offers a kind of provision
against the sharp misunderstandings of
death, men, psychiatrist, and priest
with a mirror held up
I see femininity in its wholeness
I see a love complete
what is a lesbian?
but woman isolated
and therefore—ideally—
unencumbered, nearly pure
the nebulous female civitas
only existing in fantasy
or poetry, or
in my lover's arms and lips
her unladylike,
undeniably woman,
touch
Jul 30, 2025
Jul 30, 2025 at 2:37 PM UTC
such is the power of love
her pick-me-up, now twice over
iced chai lattes with oat milk
sitting like little grannies, we knit
or crochet, quilt, embroider, etc. etc.
with pricked fingers like mini-stigmatas
and we sip, glancing up together
both eavesdropping on the actual grandmas
giggling with eyes-alone at the image of our future selves
tonight we'll walk home
she'll stare at the moon, as I stare at her
I'll save worms on the sidewalk, she'll stare at me
hearts pounding with admiration,
crabbed flesh so aching for union
that once home, we transcend earthly bounds
for such is the power of love
which transforms the lover into the beloved
and, in our case, vice-versa
Jun 3, 2025
Jun 3, 2025 at 11:43 PM UTC
I'll miss the trees
or, I should say,
I'll miss the dappling light hitting my cheeks
shade filtered through varying Sassafras leaves.
I'll miss the Japanese Maple in my parents' front yard
who once offered herself to my imagination—
a childhood plaything, a friend.
Not all quite so nice,
barefoot stepping on Sweet Gum's spikes
will I masochistically miss even her? the familiarity?
Certainly, the Dogwood too,
the Chistological imbued in her blood,
which runs through my hometown.
It's time I become acquainted with new birds, new stones, new trees.
A new life, syllogistically,
to find and make mine.
Apr 23, 2025
Apr 23, 2025 at 4:30 PM UTC
who am I?
no dramatic moment of levitation
nor sudden illumination,
I'm not like those other women
and I'm not very brave
epiphaniless: I sink and drown
I'm losing my self
who am I?
poet-bitch-fool-idealist-joy-stricken-struck
sometimes I feel I'm just a girl
there are still bright moments of passion
flickering bursts of hope
where stars' edges reach down, pierce
but not myself or most myself, I'm not sure
I like stepping into the foggy extraterrestrial
but life is mostly earthbound
and I am mostly lame
merely reflecting a rare ingenuity
not mine own, but Hers
Apr 16, 2025
Apr 16, 2025 at 2:21 AM UTC
if Earth's crammed with heaven,
my public library may be a beatific vision
an everlasting pillar of social good
which transcends capital greed
loving my neighbor
and the neighbor I'll never know
and the neighbors gone before me
the gay bar downtown might too be a slice of something holy
a place of Midwestern repose
filled with a spirit of revolutionary, radical love
What would Jesus do?
don't forget to tip your queens
and don't forget to break bread with the other
my university's English department certainly seems divine
with liberal arts professors like saints
the academia militant
a clear path towards edification
maybe even a touch of proselytizing
all in the name of something undeniably sacred
gardens, enchanted woods, and unfettered wilderness
all God-filled in their own right,
but too the fettered, man-made spaces
the decidedly human: empyrean
Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 7:51 PM UTC