I meet with the young priest after Mass.He is black, shaves his head, lifts weights;his pinkies could splinter every weedywine-stained curb along NE Alberta. Outside, over peppermint tea and the fifty-degree windsbattering a JUST SAY NO banner, he fretsover modern cinema’s excess-cultureof nudity and futility and creative blasphemy.“Have you ever seen Last Year at Marienbad?” I shake my head. The wind absorbsthe receding slivers of tea-steam. I used to lovethis weather. The dab of lavender I’ve smeared into my scarfdoes nothing for my nerves. I am mash-lipped, jittering in rhythm to the flapping flag overhead. I am sickof myself. I … Continue reading star e. rose
January 22, 2020 “I never remember anythingExcept for those thingsThat I never forgetYou know there’s no in-between–Ani Difranco It’s starting.Five years ago, in the lonesome recovery limbo of my thirties I could feel it– Start writing, or all of it … Continue reading Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Hard Man Shouting in the Street Gonna Travel the World One Day
I hate to disappoint you, but I’m no deity. I’m no daredevil. I’m the crown Prince of klonopin and I lie awake most nights reliving incidents where I wish I’d had the strength, the smarts, the agency to overthrow the dining room table, injuring every last deserving son of a bitch, and walking away like a strong black woman brandishing a grenade. Instead, I said nothing. I’m small, I’m sick, I’m nonconfrontational for my own good. I can’t help but identify with my favorite Greek goddess– before she went 2.0. But first, let me tell you: this weekend I was … Continue reading A Loving Factoid Tribute to Hestia, Demure Greek Goddess of the Hearth, the Home, and of Introverts Who Are This F@$#ing Sick of Your Bullsh*t
A 100% true account of the inspiration behind my next entry. Gratuitous kitten enclosed. Continue reading Oracle! (Includes Kitten Pic)
Pieta Alone and alive inside myself, beside my fatherin the 6th Floor’s sprawling TV room; I’m halfwaythrough my final walk of the night, moreof a pained shuffle. Outside,everything is frost and darknesssave the death sentence imposed as if by lottery—to lay my head without question atop the stumpof an oak—it ends here—the swift slam of a cleaver:I swore sideways, upside down, even backwardsin French and the bishop, rejoicing, absolved my sins.I came back not much later, and he was gone.The new one cared only to condemn my queerness;my death was such a bore. Creation grovels out of agony,never love, and … Continue reading A Poem, Submitted for Your Approval. Or Bloodthirsty Ridicule. You decide!