UnktomiA sparrow felled by a spider;Unktomi by Taralitha
spun stunned into a silk captive,
oak-bodied wings wrestling, then still.
The stickleg matron observes her prize,
(weighty body like a pendant of the web).
I see the abacus clicking in her eyes,
teeth poised for combat,
death professor considering a final grade.
A single feather like a flower on the floor;
sunbeams strike a beak forever closed.
Black beads alight on the heaven-bound body,
sipping the fine wine, the blood of the bird.
CarbonaThe sour soil from which another you has sprouted.Carbona by Taralitha
No sweetness in the union of man and homely bride.
I wring my dour eyes, clean pacifiers,
rock the restless one to sleep.
I dream of molding bones to bird wings.
Gliding night-like to the sky.
Replace the oven pilot light.
Set the wash cycle to cold.
St John the PervertEgg breath, pumping your rusty ironSt John the Pervert by Taralitha
below the prying eyes of progress
surrounded by pencil pleasurers:
and I, unwilling witness, my eyes
baptized by unholy fire -
of our shared office space.
Three fabric walls; your sticky fingers:
oh! the sights that I wish to undo.
Hand me thy push pins
that I might pull an Oedipus.
Drive out your little demons
on less well-trodden ground.
ChildersMoon-crested jungle-cat mother,Childers by Taralitha
reigning supreme over prehistoric princesses,
a goddess besmeared with the glowing juice
of late-night drag walks and sleeved hearts,
who runs rabbit with queens and fluid June
jumpers, striding down the emerald aisles
of theory and fancy, calling nothing home
Strings of fate bind tighter than blood.
We find our families in trees and boxes,
on classroom rosters or barstools
rather than wombs and natural cradles.
Genetics do not define the pull
of the yearning soul or sate
the itch inside, which reaches
for some tender hand in the darkness
to pull one from the chilling earth.
How we find our kin cannot be replicated
by the toss of DNA die. But in the fretting
of this windswept mortal sea, I give gratitude
to have been pulled
into your soothing tide.
Autumn songAutumn song by creaking-door
Come dance with me
In Autumn's light
That drift as filtered sunbeam's rays
Down soft-lit shafts
Thro' misty haze.
Run free with me
As Summer ends
And marvel at bright Nature's quirks
To colour lives
With dazzling works.
Kick leaves with me
Make storms of colour
That trees have floated to the ground
From bare wood fingers
Skip wild with me
Through Autumn's blaze
Curled golden leaf about to fall
Beneath our feet
Where earth do call.
Lay down with me
On brown-grassed field
Breath deep the crisp clean Autumn air
So far away
From city blare.
Share with me
With wonder look
Watch season weave its pastel choice
To drape the land
With evening voice.
Rejoice with me
And have the will
To prance among the Autumn's plunder
Before the roll
Of Winter's thunder.
Come sit with me
By pine log fire
Where crackling sparks dance points of light
And Autumn whispers
A soft goodnight.
Nursery rhymes re-loadedMary had a little lambNursery rhymes re-loaded by creaking-door
its fleece was white as snow
-She cut it into little bits
And cooked it very slow.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a big fall.
-So why did the stupid tosser
Sit on the wall in the first place?
Hickory Dickory Dock
The mouse ran up the clock
-Why worry about the time
If you can't stand heights?
Hey diddle diddle, th cat and the fiddle
the cow jumped over the moon
-So where did all these animals
Find the money to buy crack?
This little piggy went to market
this little piggy stayed home
-The second piggy was the smartest
Cos the first piggy got slaughtered and eaten.
Jack and Jill went up the hill
to fetch a pail of water
-Yeah, that's their story
Hope he was wearin a condom.
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet
eating her curds and whey
-Child Protection Services
Have taken the parents to court.
"Girls and boys come out to play"
-The paedophile's in town again..
Yesterday upon the stair
I met a man who wasn't there
-That's what happens
When you get ston
'You Could Be Dead...'"You could be dead by then."'You Could Be Dead...' by NostalgicWasteland
'What do you mean by that?'
Baby, please, drop your knife
Stop pretending, between the lines,
That you are alright.
I mean what I say,
Don't pretend to be okay.
I can see your bleeding
cold, dead, bones...
into barriers unknown
I live through you
In secret places, secret spaces
I love you.
'You think I'm unstable?'
I think you don't want to be breathing anymore.
So I won't say that, by killing you,
You kill me.
I am a transgender, disabled, published author of two poetry compilations. My work has been featured in several compilations and specialty publications as well as student newspapers and other outlets. |
Currently I attend University of Illinois-Chicago, majoring in British Literature and minoring in Classics and Gender and Women's Studies. I intend to pursue a graduate degree in Conflict Studies, with the hopes of becoming a professor and consultant aiming to eradicate sexual violence against women and the disabled and understanding sexual violence and the dynamics of disability throughout history. I work at two nonprofits, the Better Business Bureau and Porchlight Counseling Services, a nonprofit which provides free counseling to individuals who have been sexually assaulted during college. In my free time I kayak, care for my two ferrets and guinea pig, read nonfiction focusing on anthropology and criminology, and learn more about any topic that strikes my fancy. I hope to move to Scotland upon completion of my undergraduate degree and am seeking a Fulbright to continue my research.
Professionally, academically, and personally, I conduct and pursue research related to disability, sexual violence, gender, spirituality, and interdisciplinary methods of understanding the links between these subjects. Those who are interested in these avenues of study are free to contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org.