full of desire

i want to live in a house
with all my best friends 
i want to wake up early on sunday
and make them pancakes

i want to live in a house 
painted bright green with lilac colored shutters and doors—
i want to live with the window shades open, every single day—
so my neighbors feel invited in

i want to live in a house
 that is full of
plants and people and love, and a cat and a dog, and dried flowers, and comfortable seating, and pillows in every possible spot

i want to live in a house 
that sometimes gets loud—
not because we are yelling unkindnesses but because we are singing so loudly and dancing with the music turned all the way up and having the most outrageous holiday parties for all our friends and families

i want to live in a house 
with a guest room 
that always has someone in it,
and with art my friends made 
on every single wall

i want to live in a house 
where all the yard is garden 
and children and grandparents pick handfuls of strawberries 
when they walk past

—please, can we all live in a house together?

i want you to call me baby
i want you to yearn for my touch
i want you to shiver when i kiss you
i want you to moan my name 
i want you to fall asleep with your head in my lap 
i want you to feel safe in my presence
i want you to hope it’s forever 
i want you to give me the power to break your heart just so i can prove i never will
i want you to run your hand up and down my spine
i want you to wonder at my beauty 
i want you to follow me around town on my errands like a lost puppy
i want you to always carry my bags
i want you to think of me every time you pass fresh flowers and i want those thoughts to turn to action as you hand them your money and pick out sunflowers or roses or tulips 
i want you to be my lover 
i want you to be my friend 
i want to know what you look like in 10 years because i woke up next to you in bed

—i want you

i want to open my mailbox 
and find a dozen love letters

i want to open my door
and see you standing there with roses

i want to open my phone 
to a long text worshipping my greatness

i want to open my heart
and let you live inside it

i want a hundred happy pictures of us on my phone

i want two dozen close friends to throw me a surprise party

i want to travel the world and meet new people

i want to speak several languages with perfect pronunciation

i want to own a motorcycle and ride it cross country

i want to have tantric sex that lasts hours and gives me a life changing orgasm

i want to be a practicing tea monk and listen to peoples problems and soothe them with a good cup

i want to grow flowers in my garden

i want to build a greenhouse and fill it with rose bushes

i want to spend a year in a cabin in the mountains all by myself

i want to go spend time in scotland with my college best friend

i want to write a novel that is widely successful under a pen name and giggle internally anytime someone brings it up in conversation

blessings from earth:

today is a windy, lovely, golden

summer day

and not

a humid, suffocating, grey

summer day

heaven is a full size bed made into a couch covered in pillows 
heaven is their gentle hands spreading a blanket over me so i stay warm
heaven is the cat climbing up near my head to nap with me

heaven is honduran tacos and papusas
heaven is a coke in a glass bottle
heaven is their bubble gum pink outfit  
heaven is the sound of our mingling laughter filling up the air

heaven is when he calls me gorgeous 
heaven is being responsible for the smile on his face 
heaven is in their beautiful eyes
heaven is in their voice

heaven for the trees is the breeze 
heaven for the flowers is the bees
heaven for the squirrel is the acorn
heaven for the roots is the soil

heaven is to be here with all of you 
heaven is to be so fully in my body 
heaven is inside of me,
heaven is the world i create

—it’s heaven here on earth

i trust you to hold me:

whatever is transgressive 
whatever is sinful

whatever is transitory 
whatever is changing

whatever is transferable
whatever is contagious

whatever is translucent 
whatever is sheer

—that’s what my gender is

so full so full so full 
my edges are full to bursting 
there’s a bubble of energy 
inside me and it grows
and it grows and it grows

so big so big so big
i’m towering over the earth 
my love and my desire are wrapping around it and 
it burns it burns it burns

so i yearn and 
i yearn and i yearn 
and my longing descends like a pit

an endless pit that begins in my chest and it’s mouth opens up to swallow me whole and 
i fall i fall i fall, forever i’m falling into yearning and longing

and i long and i long and i long 
to kiss her and 
to hold him and 
to heal the soil and 
to hug the trees and 
to save my friends and 
to hold the earth in my hands and 
to be touched tenderly and 
to be desired fervently and 
and and and and 
and

—i yearn and i long and i fall

i’m here!
(i’m so excited to see you now)

i’m here
(can i hold your hand?)

i’m here—
(i’m going to wash these dishes)

i’m here,
(would you like me to rub your back?)

i’m here 
(to listen when you’re ready to talk)

i’m here 
(and i brought some food!)

skin so soft
crave the touch
praise the hand
that fingers bring
goosebumps filled with ecstasy

skin to skin
closest intimacy 
ripe for trouble or misdeed
so much trust
placed here in me

—naked

and one day you’ll forget
your grandmas lessons
about how to whip 
a perfect meringue 
and you’ll yearn for nothing
more than you yearn

for your seat in her kitchen 
and the sound of her voice 
sharp like a knife 
and warm like buttered toast

telling you how to bake 
this or that
pies or cakes 
a perfect meringue

all her lessons 
are memories now 
and you realize:
eventually they may all be faded,
like the smell of her cigarettes

gone—smoke on the wind
nothing has ever been this sad
and you’ve never once desired
to walk through your past

until this moment,
when your meringue failed to whip and to peak, to fluff like a cloud

how many more meringues
will i have to try my hand at making, before i remember what her voice was saying?

—lemon meringue pie, circa 2012

there’s a poem
something something
“who will come into my kitchen 
and be hungry for me?” 
and i think of this 
all the time 
and i wonder; 
who hungers for me? 
who yearns for my touch?
who hangs on my words? 
who lives by the light of my smile?

where’s my lover? 
where’s my poet?
where are the flowers, love letters, boxes of chocolates? 
when is the picnic, the opera, the special night in? 
when will they cook me dinner and hand me a glass of wine and light all the candles? 
where’s the romantic who wants to romance me?

my fuel is dwindling, the flames of my fires are going out, 
no one is hungry for me, so why am i cooking?

now i’m cooking for myself, 
luxuriating in my own love
this rich and delicious soup 
is all mine
the chocolate ice cream will only have one spoon in it tonight 
the roses on the table—a gift of love from myself

—i’ll become the love i desire

woke up, world weary
heaven help me 
relieve this weight 
chest open, chest empty 
i’ve been pouring 
three weeks straight 
can’t help, can’t hear it
i’ve got a stomachache 
sixteen texts from a friend 
who’s crises won’t end 
my lover’s touch can’t reach 
across a thousand miles 
this ache won’t leave 
my commitment to love
yoked to the burden of pain
to have empathy
to be vulnerable 
is to make room for suffering
god give me strength 
to carry all this love 
to endure the earth’s despair 
to remain alive in the midst 
death of spirit, loss of hope 
a world of living ghosts
Lord save us from our apathy 
from the consequences 
made by power and greed 
hear my plea,
give me strength 
to carry love today

—lover’s prayer

painted nails
wearing 7 earrings at once
tattoos
big strong muscles 
“handsome”
“my brother” 
sweater season
leather boots 
skater socks 
under-eye eyeshadow
fluffy eyebrows 
sharp jawline 
big pockets

free me from the burden of beauty 
release me from the weight of it
close the million eyes watching 
and judging my adornment 
cut off the hands reaching 
to caress and to touch 
burn the ropes ensnaring me 
in this aesthetic prison 
break the scale weighing 
my value by his perceptions 
kill the man standing behind my eyes handing out 
judgements and punishments 
for the misdeeds of my ugliness 
let me be free from Beauty 
free from sex appeal 
give me space to breath and live
space to feel

may your eyes burn when you covet my lovers 
may your tongue taste ash when you raise your voice at me
may your manhood shrivel and shrink at your touch

free me from these men’s chains! 
free me from their eyes!
free me from the weight of beauty
and the obligation of men’s entitlement 
free my body and let us be at peace

she wants to die 
and i’m trying so hard to help 
to be obliging 
but they just won’t 
give me the poison

“im so tired” she says to me
“it’s so heavy” she sighs wearily
i say i know, i know
i pat the back of her hand gently
i push her sweaty hairs back from her forehead 
“i’ve lived too long, i shouldn’t still be here” she says 
i say i know, i know 
i rub her frail shoulders 
i feed her chips of ice

she wants to die
and i’m trying to help her
to be facilitory to her desires 
but they just won’t 
give me the poison

“i was never supposed to be here” she says to me, “i’m a total accident.” she smiles painfully;
i say i know, i know

—this woman shouldn’t be here