with a razor I crop and cut away
all signifiers of my birth name
so i can finally let my hips sway
prickly pits and nasty days
of dreading dance, searing shame
with a razor; I crop and cut away
what urges you to hiss at me?
how I dare defy nature so seductively?
i have. to let my hips sway
es beware of my witty ways
the ones that cross me will know my pain
with a razor; I cut and cut away
those who march to a different drummer though
baby! call me by my chosen name
so i can finally; let my hips sway!
never have I felt so clean and gay
each hair, each foe and all that shame
with a razor I cut and cut away
so i can finally let my hips sway.
Categories:
signifiers, body, depression, discrimination, gender,
Form: Villanelle
“That’s what I love about baseball –
it doesn’t mean anything.” – Woody Allen
The sun is shining, flags are flying,
Spring is here once more:
fresh-mown grass, and onions frying –
and so you know the score.
No criticizing, analyzing –
pack away the screed:
today there’ll be no need
for diagnostic apparatus:
we’ll live without divine afflatus
until the coming Fall.
No gyres or Gaias, or signifiers,
no pyres , no lyres, Heraclitean Fires:
Just bunts and grunts, and foul-back fliers,
and eighteen guys with heavy thighs,
all chasing on a ball.
Categories:
signifiers, baseball,
Form: Rhyme