“some people aren’t alive”
when I sit to write
is all I can think
“some people aren’t alive”
when I sit to write
when I sit to think
— it’s all I can
“some people aren’t even alive”
and I am
-
-
poems don’t get better
we only understand them morethe spirit of god
was always with the ones in need -
i went to the gender store
A pair of pink pants—
Dad says,
“Strange, isn’t it?
Pink once stood for boys
before it got swapped from some marketing push.”I see some sparkly high heels—
Mom nods,
“Men wore these first—
Persian soldiers, French nobility—
heels meant power, not ‘girliness.’ back then.”Further on, a glittering eyeshadow palette—
Dad taps it and says
“Powder and rouge
were symbols of status
in the 18th century;
kings and courtiers wore them a lot.”We come to a crib—
Mom’s voice turns soft:
“Not all women carry children—
it doesn’t make them any less,
and even my being a mother
does not make me any more of a woman.”Beyond that were diaper bags marked “For Dads”—
Dad shrugs:
“Plenty of men don’t become fathers,
some fathers have wombs—
biology isn’t as simple
as this way or that.”They pause and look at me:
“So… which one are you?” they ask
I swallow my questions,
feeling unsure.
“I am not certain,” I say.
They smile,
“Then let’s keep walking! I’m sure you’ll find something.”I pass some bright sequined pants,
Mom remembers,
“There was a time
women weren’t allowed to wear pants all—
but nobody bats an eye at that now.”A well-tailored suit catches my eye—
Dad runs a hand over the fabric:
“Men often wore fancy skirts, too—
think of kilts, or robes of old kings.
Clothes don’t tell us what is inside of a person.”They ask me again,
“So… which one are you then?”
I look from item to item—
pink and blue, glitter and denim,
cribs and caps,
it’s a swirling centuries of things!My answer rises, clearer this time:
“I don’t want to be either,” I say.
“Why do I have to decide?”Mom and Dad both pause
and then softly smile
I hold each of their hands
and we leave the aisles behind. -
with regard to losing everything
i was always going to die
some people are never born againi was always going to lose everything
think i’m lucky to be alive for ityou can be born as many times as you want
without asking anyonei was always going to die
some people are never born again -
Americans 3:4-12
4 If anyone thinks they have reasons to be confident in their spiritual accomplishments, I have more:
5 Baptized as a child and baptized in the Holy Spirit, speaking in tongues; raised in a devoted Christian family, an evangelical among evangelicals; regarding purity, I strictly adhered to purity culture from my youth.
6 As for passion, I worshiped fervently—lifting my hands, singing and dancing with all my heart without reservation in both private prayer closets and public services. As for prayer, spending daily hours in intercession and communion with God. Regarding knowledge, I regularly read through the full of the Bible and intensely studied apologetics for years upon years. I manifested spiritual gifts—prophesying, healing, and discerning spirits.
7 In evangelism, I actively shared the gospel, converting people at parties and at work. I participated in mission trips, street evangelism, and community outreach programs. Demonstrating faith in action, I trusted God in all circumstances and shared testimonies of His work in my life.
8 I was deeply involved in church life—attending every service, joining small groups, serving in various ministries, and submitting to the guidance of pastors and elders. Practicing generosity, I faithfully tithed and gave to charitable causes. As for righteousness based on religious orthopraxy, I was blameless.
9 But whatever were gains to me, I now consider them loss for the sake of Christ.
10 Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of truly knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For His sake, I have let go of all these things and regard them as insignificant, in order to gain Christ
11 And be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own derived from following religious rules, but that which comes through faith—the righteousness that comes from genuine understanding and love.
12 Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus. Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead,For in Christ, there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female; for we are all one in Him. [Galatians 3:28]
Therefore, I seek to imitate Christ in His boundless love—embracing all people without distinction of gender, class, or status. [Ephesians 5:1-2], [John 13:34-35]
Committed to nonviolent resistance to evil, I strive to overcome hatred with love, injustice with righteousness, and conflict with peace, following the example He set. [Matthew 5:39, 44], [Romans 12:21], [1 Peter 2:21-23]
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. [1 Corinthians 13:1]
Without love, all my achievements are nothing. So now, these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love. [1 Corinthians 13:2-3, 13]
Thus, my true communion with Christ is found in imitating His selfless love for all people and His unwavering commitment to justice through nonviolence. [Ephesians 5:1-2], [Micah 6:8], [Matthew 5:9]
-
11.23.24 [54/100]
i clasp
the curve of my back
i have watered and watered myself
only to hide what i have growndisappear my sex into my soul
before god split man in two, we were wholei have claimed myself o’er and o’er
i have burned my body up in truththe rash of beauty along my body
was never owed to me
it betrays the sex of my souli clasp the curve of my back
to grow old & old and run out of time & strength
to keeping hiding and hidden
what has grown
-
two hundred and forty dollar walk
two hundred and forty dollar walk
i’ll have a new brother by the end of it
five hundred and ninty nine songs on my discovery playlist
and not one more
for almost four yearsi’ll stall and stall until i have something to say
on a two hundred and forty dollar walk
i’m heaving
a fat burrito in my gut
it will at least be downhill on the way back
two pistols
i worry for my own pressing eyesright to Grand Blvd
to the UPS store
a two hundred and forty dollar walk
i’ll never hear the end of this
not one more
for almost four hundred years
the Neanderthals looked like us
that’s where the uncanny valley came fromsomeone looks like my brother
but everything is off enough
that i know it’s not
someone looks like my family
but they hate the immigrant and refugee
so i know they’re not -
it’s nights like these that i’m glad i don’t
own a gun
there’s a butchers knife in the kitchen
i heard that elliott smith had to stab himself twice
to make it last
i’m not sad enough for that
i’m sad enough for a gun
but not two stabs from a butchers knifeon my birthday i was born
and every year, to the day, since then
i’ve wondered why
i’ve wished upon a star every year, to the day
since then,
to not have beeni’m not two butchers knives
but i’m a gun, i’m a couple hundred pills
and if my fingers were electric motors
i’d drive them through
but i’m cartilage and bone
i’m a lonely skulli haven’t felt this way in a long time
i’m two large windows without a single screen
all i hope
is to feel this way again
(i mean, to live long enough, to feel this way again after feeling this way today, tonight, ends) -
i know we like looking forward to —
i know we like looking forward to —
and what of
when we don’t?a force
to wonder what is hereworth living for
and when we wonder
what may we find?i know we like looking forward to —
and what of
here may we find? -
it is a wide door
it is a wide door
it must be the city
lighting the uneven wall on the other sidewe manufactured rain
my body fakes to be held down
by fifty pounds of news and papera beachside is remade
by three blades in a humming oscillationi am as awake as you are
whatever eeks into you
so eeks into memy little pinky finger holding this phone up
aches
the spiritual place where everything is
i know i must bedoes jesus ever go on holiday?
i wonder if it rains to help him sleep
and if he made the ocean just for its sound
was he man enough to get stuck awake
or always god enough to sleep?