If you’re curious how pussy tastes
You can always try your own.
I cried both during and
Then again after.
It was an ugly cry too.
I’ve been wanting to make a video
Working title: “Real Lesbians of Art School”
Sort of Project Runway meets The L Word (2004):
One dyke you’re in
The next dyke, you’re out.
I don’t spend nearly enough time
Exploring my internal “experience”
The quotidian of of-colorness
The question of queerness
La lesbienne n’existe pas.
There is a compelling theory
That the word “pussy”
Is short for “pusillanimous.”
Who doesn’t love Stein?
“When you are you you are
You without the memory of you.”
I too want a dog named Basket.
At the beach the other day
I suddenly became the beach
The zipper wave, its pointy lip
The ocean’s bottom.
My chest rose and fell
Like the tide.
It was raining
Beside and inside me
I could feel my face upon my face
From the control room where I breathe.
The opposite of awe.
The higher the femme
The closer to god.
The smell one smells
In the emptiness. Dark
Like the space between stars
Like Game of Thrones
In its last season.
I’m not sure that there’s
A right way to kiss.
What I mean to say is
I disintegrated into
A dizzying October
And saw myself glistening wet
Glowing full-battery green
Thriving in the simulation.
You were there too
Or that is what it felt like
We were this fraction of
A massive thing
Trapped in our bodies
Unimpressed with the sky
The California coast
Tiny underneath us.
Did I lose you for a second?
Today I passed a restaurant
With a sign that read, “If you don’t eat
Here, we’ll both starve.”
Bras are so expensive
It’s insulting to boobs.
When I think of our life together
I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished
Unprecedented yadda yadda
My hand in yours.
Blown-minded Bernadette
One day we’ll air on Bravo.
Other women kiss this way too.
