spit
takes

‍

‍

‍

First thing honey—kiss me here           i’ll grow
ground gills for social breathing
wake facing full air         bronchial be
-yond smother           Honey kiss & we           pining
greenstem up through asphalt folds
fresh fat           rich ghee thick to comb
Gum splotch like dark matter             pretty penny
ancient roads ending in sea        setting
forth to bomb & seed  demonstrably





Where are we going?            Thaw of gloaming
& iridescent cellular stuff          You shiver
wanting what?          No tide controllable         moon
cycle uncountable               something mystic—
sea bed or tundra               mangrove or yucca
tip         Sink           swim              straggle against
a twilit blight of industry
Your skin—silkworm                In hand           i am weaver
Steadfast         pledge jelly plural limbs w you 




‍

                                                                            First thing—speak i forward          Filigrees
                                                                                of time-splint incoherent        nip ears &  
                                                                                  stretch heads        glacial gut           atom
                                                                              rings         as in tree-form         Suck sound         
                                                                                    hungry haunt         quit the inessential
                                                                                                     Sit me down & slip me forms
                                                            Fragments         So pretty         so plastic         toxicity
                                                                 swelling cells         The only thing rising         oxy-
                                                                                                                                     genated sea.





                                                                   Where are we going         All one sees is land &
                                                                          colony perverts imagination         Speak me
                                                                       present tense         soil remembers who tilled
                                                    it         killed it         washed raw to drain basin         Here
                                                                           is what i’m hot to eat of you—language coil
                                                                 & quadruple helix—arms         legs         how it all
                                                                               comes back to tongue         What tongues
                                                                                          can do—slap silly         wink wicked         
                                                                                  bound possibly         you         i         want





First thing                                    Bodies ≠ government bodies
Slippage slaps my clit awake         whispers riddles 
& steams windows         Skin glint taut
Nutrient nettles nick         dig         dip 
crack hip         bury me in sand
i want no walls         no can do 
tear em down & tongue me in place 
Lay eggs         yolk fat         crack in pans 
till bellyful





                                                            Where are we going          as in glimpse me
                                                             —snap         eat         unfurl my backbranch 
                                                         syntax         Our bodies boister         shake up
                                                                 shake out         spill slow throat to valley
                                            born         Trust means snip—my buds         follicles 
                           all the unessential matters         Sing sorrows         sing sinful
                                              reverie         we         pining sirens from pavements
                                                   pill popping clit flick slick         suction purging
                                                                                       portals of dark to rosemash





First thing today—open for displaced floods 
pray no complacency         as singular sorrow repels 
discourse         Halo moon means rain         sun obscura
alluvial         Want won’t rupture         nets can’t capture 
oceanfast bellies sing loud         Somewhere 
a sapling sips soil         clung in snarling wind
Sex scales us         humid delta         eyes forage aggregate 
fruit         Once wet bondage hosts greenhouse gems 
squirm curious         fisty buds





                                                              Where we’re going         geography graphs & glyphs
                                                                                                      across dark before us         Life
                                                                             cycles short         eclipse our want for worth
                                                                                         Slow spread vegetation ovulates oxy-
                                                         gen         fair shares of fissure         squirt         Widening
                                                                 oracular         i open for your speech-prod dilation
                                                       Where are we going?         You tell me         i smell dream
                                                                              -time undulating on your breath—wavelike
                                                                            w the stench of my ass         you quicken me 





Last thing—nothing lacks         All we seem 
to muster—scheming fingers finagling faith 
Milk murmuring molecules 
iron pores perform miracles         tunneled
through your tenderkind         I melt
molt mud         eat bodies         clean bones
save seeds & beg for spit takes
Overgrowth sprint         suckle sunlight
drink water & drip me clean

‍

‍

willing 2b curious 

Justified with Line Breaks
The choice to be present is dense, full of holes. Uncovering paths, reinterpreting paths,
honoring origins through futurisms.

I had a dream that the branches converged, that the peaches grew juicy & kept our
mouths watering. Wants keep us young, keep datura blooming year after year outside
the mosque on Atlantic. Everything comes from something. A knot comes from the
tree’s willingness to continue, willing itself a bit more. Writing keeps one honest &
seeking—enchantedness afoot, snake coils & roses in January.

Every relationship has one simple ask: will you be curious with me?

Boundless vibes permeate the heart & ask for guides w song & prayer. Solange, always,
& Kelsey Lu. Leslie Silko & a yard full of rattlers. At certain points, trails of multiples
constellate.

Your peaches take me to a billboard i once saw, entering the state of Georgia. Ray
Charles’ face. Modern Sounds in Country & Western. Futurist dreaming as abolition.
i’m most in love w artists when they do the unexpected—Neil Young in the 80s, On the
Corner, Universal Mother, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. The Ecstatic Music of Alice Coltrane, &
years between D’Angelo records. Almanac of the Dead, for example. Dessert after
dinner & expansive listening.

I hear you praying across the lake, there & back & back & back till stars pray too. I
don't know why things grow together, rise anywhere & everywhere, but bask in the
unknowing, the mystery of old growth pines, networked.

My curiosity for gender = transsexuality. Curiosity for sex = loosened limbs, laughter,
gases, embracing of blood & pain, deeply considered, abandon. My curiosity for taqwa
= the act of islam. Speak to me as you speak. If i can’t understand the language, i’ll
learn it.

The sparrow bones of my feet ask for stories, communion, connection. Smooth salves
across them till they stretch out, running towards Saturn in the sky. Purple asters in the
meadow shine, knowing it’s their moment. Act of glowing & willingness to pop.
Shifting consciousness from the anthropocentric, all “nature” becomes kin, relative,
chosen fam. The lake regalse us glistening sun, wakes in pleasure. Things will be what
they will, grow where they grow, branch where they branch, oscillate & shine.

Walk in the woods, pay attention to the first mushroom you see, & suddenly—vast
mycelial networks. i have a crush—fine, i have many crushes! What’s healthy: crushing
w/out optimism. This isn’t as dour as it sounds, just that outcomes often aren’t the
healthiest of motivators. Crushes excite, overwhelm, keep possible. Pulled out of bed &
wake to crushing. Practice that.

Tell me what you want tonight—i’m open to all suggestions.

Magdalene, red w the egg, merged w Leonora in yellow. Something new around the
bend, communion for oneself + . Open, responsive, the risen Jesus appears first to
Mary cuz she’s here for it, ready to be full of awe. Circles back to the whole god thing.

Grass holds bodies despite fortune. Global governance lacks curiosity, re the dailiness
of (non)human life. Ancestral obfuscation careens towards days of judgment. Being
keeps silhouettes in flux, mossy & mushrooming from mountaintops, not caring where
the moon will rise. This Thing here, in the now, destined to grow, builds roots &
further networks, muscular vastness, a resting place for softness to return. Becoming
does not stop at an age or place in time—it’s a practice that changes depending on the
way the wind blows—today. Become & be, become &

True faggotry requires boldness. Sincere surrender to the godthing = boundlessness.
Boldness & boundlessness. Boldness & boundlessness. Knowing you can ask for more.
Judgment free, remember this space. Everyone shines in altar time.

Family expands in relation to one’s willingness to stay open.

Cecilia giggled when i told her i was starting progesterone. “We loooove Sister
Progesterone” she said, or something of the like—how we covet our tits, endlessly
horny. It’s a sweet moment, a funny anecdote, actually simple—curiosity for who we
can become.

For years, my altar tells me to grow the garden my great-great grandparents grew, tells
me to draw the mountain they crossed daily. i can be anywhere to do that. Be open to
sites as cycles, different weathers again & again.

Futurecome—we build & add to altars. There is really no end to being.

Stay loose while u concentrate! Push hands inside, learning new softness & ways to
want. Desire is, after all, my favorite thing. If you don’t understand the language, learn
it. Stay potent & questioning. It’s not that lyric is fantasm—it just needs to
occasionally touch earth.

Practice that.