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Lips, soft as petals, rarefied as undiscovered
Wild orchids.

Hair, threads of gold gathered, woven, mined
From secret caves.

Eyes, that fell from violet skies landing on new
Isles of azure.

Skin, so salmon flecked, subtle, delicate, solas,
Destination.

Your body is buried cask and gilded keeper
Of jewels and flame, whispers, searing cold,
Blue fires untamed—

Lush, fertile wanderings, colourful birds, sweeping
Moon, pools of sorrows and light, trees branching,
Pleasures keen, crushing delights without name.
When she touches me, I feel her touching
Herself, though she circles my shape into
Oneness, I sometimes feel— detached
Within those arms.  
                                   In her startled-fall
To sleep, imperceptibly, she gathers
The room from her vexing childhood.  
Drawing the air and curling in waves—
My hair, as if she were weaving some kind
Of shelter.

When I touch her, it is with desire.
My reach untangles the very dream
Which took thirty five years of dull
Existence to unmuddle— to imagine,
My soul's other.

                         Ten fingers envelop her body
Like splits of lightning— rippling skyward
From wholly, bone-dun-desert, floor and there,
In that rose-journey of unbridled touch,
The shock of thunder makes a mother
Of the sky.  
                     When she breaks her water
The blighted earth that was sung— given
My name, becomes her light, awakening
Child.
If (WO)men are the ones that suffer an exacerbated amount
Of the violence, the ****, the abuse, and everything that comes
with and from struggle and alienation;
it is because of their femininity that men at times
have come to believe that their contributions soften institutions.
That at times throughout history neither capitalism, neoliberalism nor revolutionary experiments like that of Cuba have placed femininity as compatible
with progress or resolution.
In which case femininity must be hidden, silenced, or displaced with no purpose or place to belong.

Thus everyone closely associated with this femininity such as homosexuals, transgendered (WO)men, and "effeminate" males, (ignoring, subverting and negating the lesbian identity because of their gender) have come to be marginalized by a structural system of exclusion.

(WO)men carrying the highest burden for originating the associative distinction

Homosexuals battling to find love by constantly having to assert their masculinity

Transgendered (Wo)men afraid of expressing their through identity.

Lesbians fighting to legitimize their own identity separate from the directives ascribed onto them by virtue of being born women.

Males who are labeled effeminate because of their sympathy toward those who struggle and are alienated.

And every other individual who refuses to deliver to give a marker to their identity and a degree to their femininity.

Hold fast in your femininity and embrace the rancor that society grants you
As a homosexual I speak with you brother and sister, not for you

Realize that our self-ascribed degrees of femininity and identity are as revolutionary and transformative, and thus necessary, as those of Che Guevara, Mohammed Ali, Harriet Tubman, or the Dali Lama.

That because we have decided to embrace our degrees of femininity, problematic to any movement, at one point or another, we have inadvertently decided to align our selves with those who are alienated the most by the systems in which they live.

So that in this way we must make our struggles deliberate and political. Let our degrees of femininity become legitimizing banners of solidarity for anyone who suffers in any corner of the world.
March 10, 2013
When the girl with sunken eyes
and white lips mutters to herself on
the subway, remind her that there are
plenty of things to worry about, but for her,
losing weight isn't one of them.

When she gets off at your stop,
invite her for coffee. Even if her
eyes are throwing daggers at you,
and even if every instinct in a normal person
would be yelling that her track marks are just that,
track marks, and for all you know
she might just shove a letter opener into
your stomach for the contents of your pockets.
A few bucks for another spoonful of hell.

Lace your fingers in hers after she reluctantly
agrees, and without missing a beat,
talk about how no girl should pass up free coffee
or free alcohol. After all, there is the
economy to think about.

Gossip to her about people you
pass on the street, and when she settles
into her signature silence, tell her about
how you love to make up life stories
for the people you see outside your
apartment window, and how you've never
admitted that to anyone else.

When she leaves, after a warm vanilla latte
and two cinnamon bagels, tell her that
you should do this again sometime,
and make plans to meet her again next week.

When next week rolls around, don't be
surprised to see your alley rat friend
missing.  Instead, smile and think about
all the important reasons she couldn't make it.
Like staying in to finish a term paper for law school,
or picking up an extra shift at the local volunteer hospital.

Then turn to the little boy next to you,
scared, *****, and without parents,
and offer to walk him to the local church center.
Because these days, no one should have to feel alone.
Written late at night, finished the next morning. Love to hear what you think, especially on the title and the last few lines.

EDITTED!!
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