Sometimes I wish I had decided
to have a child, instead.

A daughter
I would raise
to be fierce

as I am in my mind
(yet too timid to be
out loud).

I would love her purposefully.
Teach her so much I don’t know.
Learn from her all the things
no one ever bothered
to learn from me.

She would be a warrior.

And her greatest weapon
would be the questions
I beg her answer.
Beautiful weather this weekend so I finally had the opportunity to pack up my field bag and head down the street to the park to read books and write poetry. I was reading one of my favorite collections when this fell out of me.

Literally, it scared me so much and made me a little angry, too – that I packed up my bag and left.

I mean, what IS this?



People keep getting married.
I see that more
than divorces
these days
which is a good thing
for now
but time tells this tale.

I wanted to marry you.
Quite badly, in fact.
I wanted to wrap
everything I was
into a life that
was half yours
until eternity ended.

I don’t know why
I remember the sound
of your voice over
any of the other lovers
I’ve had since you

but I suspect it has
something to do with
that bended knee moment
when you said,
“Be my wife.”
Weddings, weddings, everywhere! <3

A couple clinchers already performed this year, and my cousin got engaged last weekend, so wedding talk is all the rage. Somehow ended up in a conversation with a friend earlier this week regarding our respective past marriage proposals. So inevitably, this poem arrived.

That bit about remembering the sound of his voice came out of nowhere though. But it's true and I believe the sentiment. And it's kind of nice actually. I mean, there's a chance he could pass me on the street now and I wouldn't even notice because paying attention to my surroundings is not my strong suit. But I can just imagine what would happen, if I ever heard him call my name…

For just one second he'd be that guy on bended knee again. Then, of course, I'd kick him. But that's beside the point. :)


I Would Have Gone With You

I would have gone with you.

Not out of some sense
of pity or obligation,
but because I know
how dark it is down there.

I know from experience
how much easier it is
with someone there
holding your hand,
even if it’s only for
this small part
of the long race
you won’t complete
until the day you
see her again.

I would have gone with you.

Because someone went with me.
She didn’t have to do it and
she didn’t make it to the end.
But even knowing that, it
would never have stopped me.

I would have gone with you.

Just to be there.
Because you need
someone to be there.
It doesn’t have to be me.
Now, in fact, I don’t
think it should be.

I think I’ve said it before
but maybe you’re finally
ready to hear it.

I would have gone with you.

Anywhere. Anytime.
To any scary place.

I would have gone with you
if only you’d come with me.



All kinds of people
live with all kinds of lies.

Big and small.
The rich
and the poor.

That you have to stay
the way you were born.

That the way you were born
means you don’t get to love.

That the color of your skin
means you don’t get to live.

All kinds of people
live with all kinds of lies.
Very rarely is my poetry inspired by current events because I don’t feel the style in which I write does justice to anything except maybe the corpses of those I’ve loved and lost that I stand on to make myself feel taller.

But the past few days have been too much for even me to ignore.

I’m sitting here right now writing this post because my family escaped another country due to a revolution. The country I live in is broken, it’s true, and if you’re not angry you’re not paying attention and sometimes revolution is necessary.

Just because a person is a world famous Olympic athlete, doesn’t mean that person has it all figured out. Just because a person is in a long term committed relationship, doesn’t mean that person is going to get the same rights as other “more appropriate” people in this nation. Just because a person is breathing air, if they’re doing it wrong – in the wrong place, with the wrong expression, in the wrong damn country if you ask me – doesn’t mean they get to live a long life.

Everyone, everywhere in this country is lying, to themselves and each other, and it breaks my heart.

My heart breaks for trans people who have the courage to live out loud, in a world where so few understand them. I was watching the news with my uncle over the weekend, where it stated that 8% of people in this country know a trans person. He was so interested in the whole story. And spoke openly about how he’s never had the opportunity (his words) to interact with someone going through that experience but that in the world we live in, it’s only a matter of time. <3

My heart breaks for those of us who have to stand on the steps of the Supreme Court hoping to be recognized with our loved ones. I haven't met the woman of my dreams yet, but if I ever do, there isn't a force in the universe that can tell me I'm not allowed to be with her. For those who have been fighting this SO VERY LONG, I just keep hoping we're almost at an end. I saw something online yesterday, "The first Pride was a riot." <3

My heart breaks for Baltimore. For Ferguson. For Cleveland. For New York City. For every other city in this country because you know this kind of thing happens everywhere. I don't know what caused the lit match to finally drop into the powder keg but I hope that these experiences can culminate into actual change in this country. I wish I had some grand idea about how to change the climate of the culture of this country in general but I am at a loss. Just be kinder. Meet people where they are. Understand that maybe you don't understand. And that different experiences don't make yours more valid or correct. <3

I don't know if poetry will save us. But I know it has saved me.



She threw the words at me
like a lazy accusation.
They’ve grown old and tired
but they still keep coming.

The new roof will cave in
and maybe my heart will too
but still the chorus will sing
of my failures as they stick
out their ankles to be sure to
trip me on their way offstage.
My own guilt about my shortcomings will always be more than enough and your attempts to make me feel badly are a solid waste of your time. But I know you’ll never shut up. You enjoy yourself with that. I hope it gives your sad little life some meaning.


It’s Only Time, Let It Pass Away

I read you
the latest chapter
in the story
of my life,
surprised it still
holds your interest.

But the words fall
off my tongue
with the same
fluidity they always
have where you
are concerned even
in those moments
when I wish that
they didn’t.

I hate you
more often
than I don’t
but at times
like this one
all I want is
to start the
next chapter
as quickly as
I can hoping
it will still hold
your interest.