Because I heard your heart…

Kat, your kind and honest gladness when I talk a bit about my poems…

that is the reason I am going to say just a bit here, about the poem I just posted called

In the Edges.

So my astrological sign is Cancer, which is symbolized by a crab…which has a shell, and walks sideways and indirect and likes to be surrounded by rocks or crevices, or such comforts…but is also bound to the moisture and life of the sea, lest it dry out and perish in the sand. But it must come out of the sea as well, or it will drown, stayed too long.  So there is this edge, where sea and sand and sun merge, and that is my dwelling place as a crab…

…and in life too…in the edges, on the edges, as a transgender person.  I can go “freely” in the 3 worlds of “sun”, “sand”, and “sea”, but not ever truly “free”…caught here, in this shell…

a long time ago I wrote a poem about that shell called Carapace.  I quite like this poem, and felt that it never really got the attention it was worthy of…but that is just me.  Ultimately I guess, you, Constance, determine that, eh?

I will never be able to throw off this physical shell, not until I have to give way to the Dread champion death and pay the toll laid cross our shoulders by Father Adam…but thank God that the ransom is paid already by The Risen One, and so on the other side o death’s raving sundering of body and soul I shall at last be set free, and given a new body which only They know its frame and scope and span…

…but sun (frame) and sand (scope) and sea (span) are their own shell too, and I can throw off the carapace of roles and rules and expectations and dwell best I can in the seas of the woman I am, letting her break forth everyday greater, claiming more sand as sea, and cooling the hot licks of a cruel sun.

In the meantime…every ebb and flow, high and low tide, I am pulled back and forth…

in the edges


In the Edges

snikked back up deep in rocky crevice thirsty
i wait there for the changing sea…for she
has danced again away from me across
the wet sand brown and just becoming tan,

and finally white as all its moisture fades
again in fickle flight of waves gone running
out out away, entranced, infatuated
by soft moonlight and warden gravity,

eternity’s twin engine sirens singing.
i wait, desperate, grinding gritty dread
into the chalky powder of mere sadness
so i can mix it with my tears and drink,

and try to disappear it dust to dust…
but my thirst can’t be quenched here on the edge
of deserts where sunlicks lash my quick feet
and scorch my liquid heart, fall like whiplash

upon my salty soul to feed that thirst.
the desert creeps in sideways, snaking, slithering
thru the sands, across the wet seaweed,
chasing the sea as she cavorts and dances,

as she asunder runs, her lacey skirts
bounce briny, lift, swooning in moon-lorn longing,
her green eternal ever yearning quest.
the desert hisses its hot joy in radiant

baking waves of heat and takes another
sodden sandy vassel wet and cool
relief falls into sizzling fiery thrall.
i wait for the sea…pine for her cold droughts,

her rhythmic waves, relief washed over me
like heav’n’s promise…then i can wait no longer
as sun beats down with eager lusty limbs
on my rock, me within my crusty shell

I bake on edge…as if t’were damned in hell.

i peek slow, take a spattering face-full
of sand surfing on winds and sizzle sun,
and then i slide out skitter-quick and sideways
toward my ocean of such cool relief,

zigging towards bright sunlight dazzle-zagging
and zagging when the desert dapple-zigs,
in fits and starts i make my way cross edges
on edges…the edge…of sand…and sun…and…sea…


i live in the edges…on the edges
and i am never sure if i am running
from or running to but does it matter?
still in edges, on edge, to and fro.

finally drawing close to briny blessings
once again i feel her liquid life
so cool in pulses, pounding sand and driving
cool water deep inside me once again

to baptize my dry well springs in her depths,
and there i feel her washings o’er me…
she recovers from her sweet enchantment
to the soft moon and moon-swung gravity

writ in circles large and sung in cycles
cross every edge…the sun, and sand, and me.
she runs her musky liquid fingers gentle
thru my hair and kisses my hot brow

with lips that speak of depths unspoken, hidden,
buried within her vast oceanic self,
and deep within her womb of seaweed life
her friendly waves wash warm and reassuring

but then her hunger wakes and eagerly
she reaches for my depths with her cold waters
that always live beneath that dancing surface
and i can feel her kisses and her yearning

as she my hot soul drinks like her lifeblood
that runs in waves and time right to the edge
of sun and sand and sea, and yes, of me.
i founder in her fathoms and her caverns

and pull away before i sink and drown
alas! i must away with me or perish
and ever be her hollow lifeless crown.
so desperate i slide, i bounce, i skitter

away and to the right, no to the left
until i find again my crevice rocky
and safe there, on the edge and yet bereft
of sun, or sand, or sea, i dwell in edges

yes, i live in the edges ever…edges

the singer said the first cut was the deepest,
well she was sadly falsely optimistic
for i am cut when she goes gallivanting
and cut again when she returns so thirsty

and overwhelming in her vast expanse
that stands against the sun, against the sand
and lives there with her edges pulling me
and pushing me too back across the sand

until the sun is threatened with my dance
and pushes me away with one hot glance.
under the sun, on sand, and kissed by sea
…i live in the edges…bound…and free