to quote mac miller in wartime winter (freewrite)

bones unplugged

a gape of snow

stretching across chicagoland

in the age of aquarius

my momentum falters

no water pours out

frozen icicles bend

at the guttural breath

of morning undone

popping back into

membrane space the newscaster

remains impartial

the russian school of

future 

the palestinian nevers

a video i need not see

to know how it 

ends

"i disconnect and then 

i upload

watch it spin around"

wont you fathers leave

behind the sheriff's badge

i know little about fathers

but so much about 

the ache of blue and red

lights staining my mirrors

wont america release grips

and hold close 

the wronged the wrong-doer

i lean on my chemex

poor american psyche

begs 

what distant war might

discover peace

what change what change

 

confession

hey i just want to tell you

i use they/them pronouns now

because remember how mom 

used to say i'd be prettier

if i wore makeup

and how dad always encouraged

me to be tougher, how he

praised me for my masculinity

i mean tomboyishness

i mean i never wanted to 

push my boobs up and create

the illusion of cleavage

i just wanted to feel comfortable

in my own skin, i wanted 

to look cool but not in my 

spandex, strong bend in the 

knee to pop out my ass, i 

wanted to be like Bender from

The Breakfast Club and also 

Ally the basket-case and every

other queer coded character

whose parents disliked them

you know what I mean?

anyways I just wanted to tell you

I don't care what you call me

I just don't want to pretend my

gender anymore, I want to 

actually be a human 

unsubscribed to a particular

expression, hairy-legged

and macho and pastels 

and animal crossing

and you never told me how 

to dress or act you always 

let me be myself and so I wanted

to tell you I'm just a person

a human being and I think

maybe I always have been

where you belong

now im lingering in white noise

small power tool, Bruce is in his shed

sanding guitars

sonic impressions from video game song

in the other room in another timeline

tires on wet snow it is never perfect

outside but we talk about how 

it could be 

a little sunnier 

a siren bathing walls blue 

flicks of cat tail, too

in the window where nothing harms the 

dust

when the song ends, it whistles out

of frame, cartoon tornado-like

and always planes to O'hare rush 

in from the 

wide mouthed lake 

and i collect my senses

Woodland Sermon (for Ryan)

the christian enby

    whose lips ribbon 

into a bow

   teaches me forgiveness:

says imagine 

            a door left open, the light of 

christ fed through 

            thin veins of plant 

matter,

a foraging in the arms 

                                of deciduous woods.

We must realize 

our perceptions of others 

                are purely imagined,

they shove a slinky 

deep in my pants pocket.

This is your love

overflowing,

                You must know it will do

                what it's made for. 

richie the great 1/9/23

my once best friend led me down a beach in my dreaming

them with new friends, and yet, the same beach, and us 

forking left toward the waters, a brilliant cloudless expanse

their lip piercing waves in sparkle, glinting from their smile

they are toned and bronzed, their gaze is loveful and generous

we have an average discussion, a laugh, and share the same

internal urge to disrobe and enter the ocean

for a moment i hesistate, i can feel my braless bust beneath

a loose fitting tank, but we lock eyes, then through our heads back, 

like a swim suit ever stopped us.