poem: portrait of a lady, january 2019

pine tree hands make ginger kisses. they are better than the crowd of girls: nice, but all emotional. the boys carry rocks on their heads and in their eyes; the girl tuck the rocks into athletic bags and into breasts. she is with the boys, competing, the rocks split open to Intelligence and Intellect, and…

poem: this will probably offend you (i’m not sorry)

i would be brilliant at being victorian, even as i would hate it but at least then the war cries of women (western, privileged women) would make sense. as it is, i am the artist looking stupidly (they say) to the wrong political direction and for me life comes before a maligned humanist choice. new…