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A Cup of Molten Granite

I am a pseudo-forest.


I am a pseudo-suave forest, always burning down

Always lighting myself aflame for tiresome old haunts

You are a quietly brightening Arctic mass

Always melting yourself for my hand.


I would let my stubborn mittens cover you

They’d evaporate your veins

We’d let a droll and shaky back-and-forth

Become a one-way transfer of reins.


With a blood-sharpened ring and the hint of engagement

We’d propose interruption and call it entertainment 

In a TV dinner world, we’re a cup of molten granite

It burns, and it sears, and at last, it’s inanimate.


Because all the worlds I ever saw were in you

And all the fires I ignited burned us blue

Communication gave way to a fluorescent kiss

And such an act was but a tarp over an abyss.


I am losing again, darling.

I am hopelessly fading into my own inertia. 


I am the abyss.




is a dyke to watch out for.

For Today, I Was a Boy

The Kinks’ “Lola” was my first transwoman.

She was a radio staple on those pre-iPod car rides

Where I took up reading to avoid presumed parental interrogation.


I’d cut Harry Potter rereads with Garfield treasuries and dust-coated music biographies

A gold-star intellectual even then, clearly.


But now and then, 

Amidst the dire, the dour, and the Dire Straits

I’d hear those out-and-open guitar chords ring aloud

And I’d quietly close my book.


I was admiring her - “Lola”

As she danced less-than-gracefully

But oh-so-luminously 

From the fuzzy speakers to my burnt-out head.


And yet

My sex-cocooned, chromosome-confuzzled,

Uncracked egg of a youth-stuck self

Simply saw “Lola” as “Lola.”


Another name for another girl

Free from queerness, somehow

But free nonetheless.


My second transwoman, to my own shame,

Was Caitlyn “Disrupter” Jenner

A “watershed” moment for some, a cultural war cry for others.


And yet, Apollo’s arrow flew right by me here

As I saw Caitlyn as so fashionably distant from me

That she could not have been anything at all like me.


I dismiss “brutish cis folk” for their ignorance near-endlessly

Yet, with Caitlyn, I was - quite simply - impossibly thick

Real “didn’t see the obvious stop sign” energy, my gays.


Nowadays, though? 

I recognize my mistake.


Caitlyn was always elsewhere.

She was never for me.


Yes, she could have been for the non-queers

Like the short-fused skeptics and the worn-out grandparents

But my most confident guess, naturally 

Is that she was always for herself.


She was for Caitlyn.


Caitlyn was Caitlyn for Caitlyn

Just as “Lola” was “Lola” for “Lola”

And Carolyn was, and still is, Carolyn for Carolyn.


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