heart like a boy









rounded thingheart like a boy,

i dream i fly

to the spire of island —

ride beating flanks

to land on green sable,

rub the birthstone —

          red stone smooth,

burnt ember —

reach to you,

i fear your eyes,

my curiosity.


you hand me

a golden rope,

i do not know

how it could be…

boy piss-stream

beads on lilies

how we have bodies —

edge of


point of splendor.


press the rope to me,

dry wheat straw,

hidden ember… dream

of lips, your

salt-dry fingers.



  1. 27.03

One thought on “heart like a boy

  1. this is a difficult piece. a kind of ‘hamlet’, to be or not to be, thing. where i’m asking if i’m my body and if so, if my child body was perfect and all my life after childhood is a degeneration. or, if i’m spirit, if my spirit passes through my various stages of growth into manhood and old age? and, if so, must the body force its needs on me so much that i have to trick it into submission, yoga-bend it into submission… give up dancing and turn into stone. suicide note, really. i want to, feel, that i’m as alive as i when when i was only a child with nothing between me and the stars.

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