crumbled and rolled

Shapeshifter 02/21/2014

Filed under: free verse,gender trouble,poetry — paperslightertext @ 6:21 pm

Sweets for the sweet,
And fat for the fat- but first
You must deprive yourself of that
Which consumes you, presumes you
For decades produced by a sugary tooth
A preponderance of adipose,
An extra-large hourglass,
An outline essentially gendered.

You always played at transformers,
A desire aimed at metamorphosis
Into a mesomorphic flying V,
Flat, but not straight,
A stubborn shapeshifter
That only feels how they want
Unless the stress necessitates an undress,
A Sailor Scout transformation:
Height, weight, then gender.


Lumpy Space Sonnet 02/05/2014

Filed under: adventure time,gender trouble,sonnet — paperslightertext @ 1:22 am

I tried to punch out these lumps
To satisfy a Nice King- I’m a chump
Smoothness wasn’t his bag
(Turns out he’s not a fag.)

Neither am I, it turns out.
This little teapot, short and stout,
Lacks the stature and the spout
It’s all news to me- I just found out

That I need a man more than a fish needs a bike
Never could get the hang of being a dyke
I’m doing dual duty, a double gay double bind,
What if lumpy fag hags are smooth on the inside?

Perhaps if I keep searching inward I’ll find
The True Meaning of Gender for all Lumpy kind.


piercing 04/10/2011

Filed under: gender trouble,readable — paperslightertext @ 7:04 pm

Their throats were grateful gutters,
stoppered by the guttural guh-guh-guh
fostered by the culture of utter contempt.
Quit clicking! This runoff’s senseless typeface
dreams in bold, baby blue, powder blue,
indelible marker of sensitivity pink.

It doesn’t matter how you dress the Barbie.
Her proportions prop up the lackluster verse
Spray paint apathy chic on the goth kid’s hearse
He’s got tunnel vision- staring down an inviting esophagus
Warm, wormy wet, ribbed for his pleasure.

In his eyes, we were cylinders of fluid.
Were I tipped off by such sloppy proofs,
a Like Like who swallowed Link’s shield,
equipped with super suction,
I’d’ve steeled myself for the puncture wound.


the forbidden garden 06/06/2010

Filed under: gender trouble,readable — paperslightertext @ 11:20 pm

face pilled like old clothing, her
eye a camel through the needle,
machine washed and tumbled dry
humbled by a herculean try
foiled by a well-timed wheedle

world-class whinger, that boozy binger
that pill-filled ex-ginger.
her boy-toy, the functional one-
the one that kissed me once-
in the field on his birthday,
detached so as not
to burn up, withered in the limelight,
lilted by direct sun- he was no marigold
he was a bleeding heart- too bloody to behold.


again the torturous mermaid with rounded face
swoops in to steal the whale shark from the vampire squid
dramatic and flushed, rattled by the rush.
batting her lashes like she’s making expert passes.
not fair her tresses so robust,
her A-game is a must
no gymnopedie could prevent such a fall from grace
a foolish child might fry the egg on her own face.


phantom hat, frothy subterfuge brew,
how on earth could i refuse you?
twice as nice and ten times as wrong
as when you watched me sing along

firm and young my embouchure
entices not one conquerer
my name is the ultimate laugh
to believe any of it i’d be daft

to write you any hymns,
to sing some homonyms,
a sonnet to compose
you know i’d never propose,

but when you look,
delusion grows, &
i know you know.


can you court? 03/28/2010

Filed under: gender trouble,readable — paperslightertext @ 12:36 am

even science fails to elucidate the reason
i eat eggs though they are unpalatable
on a bed of riced potato mash with greek
yogurt, scrambled, sauteed broccoli fragments,
and when they ask my secret- when i’m an
eight-year old next to rachael ray, i’ll say-
i can make a single red bell pepper last seven days
the secret is to chop the tiniest piece possible,

like a mouse- i’ll have to fend the cats off with a stick- or a serrated knife,
don’t invite men (not after 8pm) or breakfast will never be the same again.


pencil case 03/20/2010

Filed under: gender trouble,readable — paperslightertext @ 10:57 pm

he dubbed me another in a series
of “feminist girls in yellow springs”
mixing medias three at a time, or five
when i bit off a chip off the old block,
two fans at a time, Admirers, like the king
of a miniscule rosy asteroid-

here’s that crayon you started to wind,
melted of course and fetishized
deformed into an animated sequence in my mind
as opaque as my multicolored coloring-book shapes

i should be busy being fed decadent grapes
instead i’m coloring in abstract shapes.


oooooooh snap! 03/19/2010

Filed under: gender trouble,readable,silliness — paperslightertext @ 11:27 pm

To be absolved of anonymous sin, invisible filth,
would you pay a processing fee? Five hundred dollar.
For free though you could melt into the seamless weave
turn sideways and you’ll become three-D
it’s simple, love- delirious weeks lack endings,
this act’s transparent (and hungry), daintily demure.

I realize I’m in possession of a highly feminizing
rapport- a strongly energized retort- a mouthful
of borrowed theories, and a thousand repetitive queries

Vaulted upon the hopeless masses
of snakeless (read: native) Saint Patricks
All green, if you know what I mean-

Danced before on that wooden floor
that’s what friends are for.
It’s a dance done before on this particular floor
and besides, Mom says I got the right
pretty little wiggle in them hips

I realize I’m teasing it out with a cloying meow
let their seeds spill on the ground, for now

Force a rhyme to kill the time: update?
No update. Grind your heel in the gravel,
wipe the crease from your brow, & fast forward
to eight years from now: pick up that string,
next comes the can- I know you want to hang out
with my cat again.

yeah, she just went there!