Page 5 - Issue 159 News Today : Breaking News, Live Updates & Top Stories | Vimarsana

I grew up poor, no monogrammed bath towels or duffle bags, nowhere to travel but into myself. My mountain had so many small mountains inside of it, and I had breasts. If I had to give myself any name then, it would have been hunter or whittler or fire with only flint. Of course, I was stronger than I should have been. Strength is the nature of a trans boy huddled over kindling, lighting themselves up, into only ever embers. Sometimes I still feel like a woman, and, really, it’s not so bad if I’m alone. I don’t want to live forever, but I want to live long enough to make people upset. It...

I want to make the body into sky.                                              – Anish Kapoor, on his sculpture Marsyas (2002), Turbine Hall, Tate Modern No, I can’t imagine it–– I, the taut tongue in an unsheltered             mouth dizzy with the earth as it turnsand turns. At least let me be skin. Something beneath skin.

On the fifth day of pills, the limestonestole my eyes. Beneath its scraggle and rasp              my sight burned senseless. No surprise–they must want to cure my beast with more beast.              What could see me like this but the monster of me? By morning

Jughea d potted s hell  he ad precious po tted jug pot she rd  shard pitch   er   she ll woven s he l l            it was multipleand my head was a joke   my head was a joke?   my head became a small vessel and a precious metal was put in theres he l l    jughea d potted s hell  precious po tted   he ad   jug   shell  pot   po  tted   she rd shard pitch   er woven   she ll 

Before bed, my smallyets ask if I’ll meet themat the signpost we create in sleep, & whenthey wake, they’ll ask do I remember.I take us to the cliffing place, dip our wasp-stung faces toward the wind. It licks us till we brine.We dream the world won’t end.Not till the glob we’ve wadded in our pocketsis stuck safe behind our ears. Till that gumballmachine, infection-pink, has