Categories
poem

addict

he’s the kind of guy who takes a bunch of naked pictures interspersed with not-naked pictures  and wants to show you not-naked pictures, but you accidentally see some unexpected dick. he’s the kind of guy who reads difficult books because his head craves exciting brilliant difference. he’s the kind of guy who needs to sedate

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poem

sex as healing

sex as healing the bold head and matching wings form a plump wishbone shape I would lick until you shake. please rest in the joy of my care, then come on my tongue and learn my name in the depths of your contracting vulva. you gave everything to many loves who half-understood and blamed you

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Categories
poem theory

what’s relationship

a previous, much shorter version of this was published in July 2020–I greatly expanded it, so here is is anew. i used to think relationships were made of words, all language.  then i decided words are just little poop pellets that relationship leaves behind–mostly worthless evidence.  then i thought relationships were soul level connection.  like

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Categories
poem

beam

That was the moment I would have touched your hand or asked if I could kiss you. We both wore pretty dresses, brick red and pink. I wanted to learn everything about your life north: splitting wood in your free time, community conflict, living in an RV. You said I was a role model of

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Categories
poem

how I find it

I was happy to learn that my poem “how I find it” published in BiWomen Quarterly is on their blog.  Happy to have a poem in this magazine, and share my world view and love-philosophy with bisexual women and all people. I read my poem in the big pdf of their newsletter.  But I enjoy

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Categories
poem

golden rabbit

This poem “golden rabbit” is about open relationship and whether we admit that we’re free. golden rabbit Every relationship is an open relationship. It’s a matter of whether you admit you are free. Old friend was standing in the kitchen– I was wearing that yellow dress men get excited by. He looked at me, and

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Categories
poem

where does it hurt?

it hurts where I notice you can’t do the thing I thought we were doing. I was spinning straw into gold. you were talking about it. but as I sat at the wheel in the straw-stuffed room, for hot hours  whispering my spell, exhausted with mythical effort and magic work, you were fucking a convenient

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Categories
poem unsent letter

slow relationship

The first year, I would hold your hands, smile at you, spoon you as the big spoon, my breasts and tummy against your back, the fronts of my thighs against the backs of your thighs.  If you fell asleep, that would be fine.  I would caress your arms.  I’d kiss your hands, a blessing to

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