somewhere beyond
‘life as usual’
somewhere…
fish may be learning
to see the very water
in which they are submersed…
it’s a gift they seek
to give themselves,
a gift fleetingly
consuming time
and space like
ravenous gilled
furnaces burning
through revelation
and gold…
a scaly examen
looking backwards
into a future
coming hard
round the bend
and thus having
open eyes in this
lurking present
My heart always
beats thunderstorm surges
instead of blood
circling round and round
from ground to air to ground
I am splintered by great waves.
I am a window fixed
comprised of coloured glass
gathered from manifest-storms
of destiny manifest.
Sometimes I wonder what building
I should be hung in to let the light
shine thru formerly shattered me
now fixed, now gathered, now baptised
with those Bloody Loving Fingers dipping deep.
My hair luxuriant
breezy-blowsey and dancing
on the insistent playful zephyr wind
and combed and tangled all at once…
My hair heavy, shiny
and pregnant with dreams
not yet birthed and dreamt
my hair free, unkempt
Like Medusa before me
(before she was betrayed, before
she was raped and blamed and
cursed by that collaborator Athena)
my hair ravishing and alive like palm fronds,
like banners sparking and unfurled, unfettered,
undreamt and spread out into
endless ever-eager skies,
it wraps itself around dreamseeds
that float like stars, like fire-flies
and in its net they find a home,
a heart, and courage to lay down disguise
and take up residence in every
dreamer’s hopeful diamond-sleep
and blossom, unfold without care
those dream eggs held in my thick hair
What Cis People Say To Trans People Vs. What We Hear
“Oh, you’re trans? But you look so good!”
Rory Midhani for BuzzFeed News
When you shattered my heart
delicate globe shot thru with
tunnels and annals
and columns and canals…
when you stormed at me
on me in me with your
stoney snow of bitter black
granite and jagged icy nuggets
of frozen flecks so broken
She reached with fingers eager
to bleed upon the bloodless drained
edges of my torn and shattered soul,
fingers white and tender to the slash
and picked each cutty-edgy razor piece
up off the quick-sand floor
and put them all together, jumbly
but Her pattern knowing, more
than what I was before
And then She made a hole thru which
the eye can see, the heart can hear
kaleidoscope music and dance
of Her and me and your futility
and so I spin now, caught in moments
stark, or velvet, or even gentle fuzzy
and simply refract light from the
million shattered pieces reassembled
in mosaic magic, kaleidoscopic and supreme.
“Your line of work requires support. People who care about your wellbeing, who will be there to stitch up your wounds […] There is not a man or woman, no matter how fit he or she may be, who is capable of carrying the entire world on their shoulders.”
Can we talk about how we’re living an age where we can get an action tv show with a female protagonist and her male sidekick and they’re not in love and he’s a nurturing figure for her and she means adventures for him????
BLESS
Charissa's Grace Notes 
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