i came back to chicago.
i stopped writing.
i gained weight.
i got a job.
i’ve been painting more.
things look mighty different around here.
Not-Quite-NaNoWriMo, bit by bit. Day 1. Prompt: “Ani”
A group of internet strangers and I are working on supporting each other through NaNoWriMo. Ideally, I’d use this to finish the script I’ve been working on for half a decade, but it has been far too long since I regularly wrote. I plan on using this month to stretch my calcified muscles. Maybe something will come from this, who knows.
Prompt via @hourlyprompts on Twitter, as always, a joy.
Ani: technically has something to do with birds, black cuckoos, but the word for “I” in Hebrew. Influenced by the godawful fucking events of the last week. May the memories of the victims of the Tree of Life synagogue massacre be a blessing. They are.
“Ani: A Kaddish Prayer”
Ani, hineini.
I am here and present, despite you.
Hineini, in the face of your hate,
I am here.
For years they have told us to worry, and for years, I have told us not to worry.
Can you imagine escaping one evil to be struck down by another?
Imagine, watching the world turn over again.
Imagine, the same mistakes. Once more
we turn our noses to the sky, this time
in pride. Once more we turn
our backs to those who would harm us,
to tend to those who need us. Once more.
A beautiful thing about us is we will feed you.
We will heal your sick, we will feed you salt and schmaltz,
we will keep you hearty throughout the winters,
and we will feed you questions,
we will feed you thought.
Do not be fooled for the men who do not speak for us,
whose vision lies in fear, in protecting themselves,
who hide behind our enemies, who in turn use them as shields. Those are not the ones
who will look out for us. Look to the healers, the artists,
the leaders of heart and spirit,
they will feed you salt and schmaltz and wine, and tell you,
ready your bones for what comes next.
Now is then, and never forget has been forgotten a thousand times over,
but sometimes what has been forgotten can be remembered,
even if it feels brand new.
i love my traditions. i love my people, i love our commitment to the collective,
to thinking,
to tikkun olam.
Hineini, I am here, we remain, the ancient peoples from all lands,
our tenets will keep us,
our philosophies will guide us,
our centuries of strength will allow us to rise and keep rising. Hineini. Hineini.
Hineini, ani, toda.
I am here, I, forever.
Hello, Virgo
hello.
your constraint only shows when smiling.
the wrinkles behind your eyes are more constant than most,
but i think my thumbs can make them feel better at least.
hello.
your jaw is sturdy/set/stubborn,
and i wouldn’t have it any other way,
but your formidability is a shadow that follows you,
shrouded underneath your sign,
implicit.
your eyes are too kind.
i’m just a set of chimes hanging off your shoulders,
too often wind can’t make a difference with the ground
but together you and i create tornadoes.
together we could change the formation of boulders,
quieter than dynamite,
a burst of hushed breath from soft lips.
shhh,
virgo,
your label is overrated.
even covered in the land,
even tired,
even dusty with labor,
even scared,
you are nothing but perfect.
god hates ugly
but i’ve got an ass that won’t quit
and a smile full of razorblades
i’ll be all right
i’d like to stop time and tell you goodbye
i’d like to go back to let you go
i still can’t take my mind off of you
i’m at that restless place at night
where i eulogize you
and bury the name of a dead man
deep into my heart
the skin has healed over since
the ventricles pump fine
but you left marks
i made sure of that
you were walks in parks
and leaves falling from trees
you were cold winters
and stiff beds
and closeness
and a love story
and us against the world
and you were beautiful
now you are sunspots
i earned you from flying too close
and staring directly at the sun
just as it hit an eclipse
now when i see something beautiful
it is always dotted
by these black caverns
which i know will eventually
swallow my vision whole
i punished myself
and broke another person in the process
my self-discovery
came at the expense of someone elses’
forgiveness is never going to come
and that’s fine
but i see you in everyone
i see your laughing face in everyone
i see your crinkled eyes and open mouth
everywhere
i do not miss you
but i wish you were still around
somehow
and i hope you never think about me
but i wish you did
somehow
to love you now
is to leave you alone
to love you now
is to leave you alone
may my thighs remain
forever perfect in your
dark lascivious eyes
may my cursed tongue
bring your toes to curl and give
you wildest pleasure
forever. your wet
stickiness is my gold star
i wear it proudly
may this last, may this last, may this last
(untitled self-love venus tribute)
My body is its own
open territory
to be explored and felt
to be experienced
My body makes me
Venus of Willendorf
Come bury yourself
in me
Cultivate the Confused
If confusion is a walrus,
gender is a calf
hiding under its mother’s flippers
and waiting for the
temperature outside to
adjust
You Want Me Like Whiskey
Welp. I guess I’m just emptying out my notebook now.
I’m fine with this.
I went to a writing workshop in October and much of these (including my last post) were the result. I’m not mad about it.
Hope you enjoy.
You want me like whiskey
like a mama
like a piggybank
like Friday after a long week
and I exist to you
it is so thrilling
and I want you
like the crinkles in the corner of your eyes
want to greet the world
An Ode to Noses
Well, it’s been a long time.
The transition to Miami has been a long one, but I’ve gotten some good writing in.
I wrote this one for everyone I’ve ever crushed on hard, from way back when to now.
Here’s a glass to your nose.
It is fleshy, it is cute, it is prominent, it might be bigger than mine
and you hate it for being bigger
but I love it on my lips and between
my tiny-nibbling teeth and
just on my ears as you whisper and the
sound of your breathing. I want you to
fuck me with your nose. I want you
to get it in there with the rest of your
divine self. Your nose is your hallmark,
the statue that ties the room together.
It has its own landscape. It has its own
terrain and dirt from the day
and a mind of its own and
I want it. I want our noses
meeting finally, that intimacy of the
space between us, the guiding line
that is the bridge, that leads me closer to you
and I fall in
A toast to you, my sweet.
werewolf girlfriend 