january 2 2020 (for too many to name)

i wanted to shield you from all this

and keep you safe.


my own heart never compelled me

to write a story for myself

but with the heart of a nine year old prodding me

and your unbending gender defiance drawing me

how can stories not emerge from within me

and rise to the surface like resurrected bodies


little seeds of stories whose dormant bodies

have lain my belly for years and years, compel

all these seeds to break their shells

and fling their fragile arms toward the light


why were all we defiant hearts born at once, still being born

crossing and recrossing into one another’s cycling orbits

like a generation of unholy stars


born for a fascist state, one police nation under the white god

born for the rebellion, raised on revolution only we could see

born raised fists holding a prayer to raze parliament’s sickness


born out of line because someone must be left behind

while the march goes on ahead, there must be those

whose dance must scorch the muddy fields breathless clean

break the certain uncertainty of borders, for all borders must break


and stand like a torn flag with nothing left to hold

(not even you)

star sons and born daughters, all endings are beginnings

since no power can shield you or keep you safe

i will write you every story that was ever born within me


and die like a miigis, a shell adorning the face of the earth

with songs releasing till the infant dawn of time




“rise like lions after slumber.

in unvanquishable number.

shake your chains to earth like dew.

which in sleep has fallen on you.

ye are many—they are few.”

percy bysshe shelley

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