badly photoshopped banners

of bible verses

john 11:25-26


tweets about hypocrisy

and tweets about anal sex

bared flesh on beaches

“want casual sex near u?”



demanding respect

demeaning female forms

demanding validation

providing humiliation


only humans

are capable of creating

such contradictions as these




i wanted to be one of the boys


when i was 17


and so they would test me

and ask me

if i was a tits man

or an ass man


never mind the fact

that i was not a man at all


my response did not matter much

as long as it was one of the two


thus began the gentle mockery

of all things feminine

while they waited for me to engage too


as if

degrading my sex

would deepen the bond between us


you’re not really gay

one said one day

and, in a moment of defiance

where there had previously only been agreements

of nods, and yeahs, and fuck yeahs,


i said no


you cannot bend my queerness

to your will

for it will not break


you cannot shape it with your hands

because you cannot touch it


you cannot hunt it down

because it is not prey


my queerness was here long before you were here

and it will be here long after you are gone


it is a fire inside me




i walked past her

at first


she held a sign that said

please help

i have 4 kids

and no job

and need diapers

and food


and i walked past her

and wondered what size of diapers

she needed


i put peaches

and strawberries

and lychees

in my cart


and then said to my wife

“i need to buy her diapers”

and she said

“okay, i’ll be right here”


and when i went to find her again

she was already gone


she’d been asked to leave

by the staff

and she’d left

because she’s a good person


but i’d wanted to be too

without a job

without a car

without a work permit


but not without hope


crafting stories

purely for the pleasure of it

not for publication


keeps me sane

amidst the wait

for applications

for approval

for IMM0008

and all the other required paperwork

for a spousal sponsorship


the lack of hope

in a story

is hope


that those pages

beyond the bookmark

might hold a happy ending





so i write myself

thousands of endings

thousands of stories


lose myself

in synonyms


and scripts


so writer’s block

crushes me

surrounds me

overwhelms me


like a paper crane

in a fist