These things are true

These things are true

there are aspects of femininity that stick to my guts.

I love purple glitter glam fluttery flirty clothing.

Most of my self loathing has been directed to my body image.

I buy cheap glam sham slam trinkets at Wal Mart and Thrift stores.

Love is something I believe in.

My lungs are weak.

At times I have looked at my hands and they have transformed into a woman's hand, the gauzy white light about the fingers, the nails dark red stain upon the glow.

In anger my wife told me I had “woman's hands”
When I was younger and dressing in my mother's clothes, her perfume trailing behind me as I posed in the window for the college boys who drove down my street.

At one time I wanted a boyfriend more than anything in the world.

At one time I detested my bisexual urges, so much I punished myself through starvation and denial.

Orange is my favorite color.

There are times when I want to peel the skin off my bones because it's so sensitive. Like cold teeth. Like a sprained back. That hot itching pain that pulses in yr bones, in yr sinuses, in yr heart.

I want to pass.

I feel like I was born too tall.

I hope I have the courage to change.
My heart rate increased and I warmed all over, but did not show my pleasure.

All I have ever wanted is to be a housewife, a hearth, the large pot of soup, the fresh laundry and homemade cheese. Dandelion wine. The walrus teeth bravery of wild onion soup.

100th post...news and notes

The misses purchased a new spring Target (we say Tar-jay...as if it were French) dress. I'm a sucker for Target fashions, though my own personal voice is more of a hippie-girl mash-up with preppy Laura Ashleyesque Victorian girlyness. Go figure. I like the goth punk look too.

Also...to brag about her awesomeness...the kids have been sick-crazy-mad-genius-suckers-of-our-time this week, so she offered to give me more time to let the woman inside out!

Yes! Always fun. Tis true I want to let the woman out 24/7...(for you new followers...this is Basil Exposition... thank you, BTW...for following this humble Trans blog) but to maintain the fam I limit my time to weekly excursions into my real world.

Not sure how it will play out, but right now I am enjoying the split time. When the children get older, who knows how I will feel...


My male alter ego will be reading tomorrow at a poetry festival in my small town. Since I will be reading in drab, my trans poems will be metaphorical in nature, versus straight up. Since I live in the aforementioned small town....um...you got the idea.

Just to hammer home how small of a community this is...we are two hours away from a Wal-Mart.

Still the overall transformation message will be first and foremost in my selections. Have a great weekend all!

Virtual Va-jay-jay

Editorial note: Trying out an edgier tone with this one...

IMAGINING MY VAGINA

Like a tongue over a seam

my skin folds and pussy opens

in the ache between

cock and hole

how skin hurts because skin

isn’t doing what it’s told

how brain and mind illuminate,

like a paper lantern,

the curvy form and mold


that is passed by

like a firefly

like a sailor drunk at port;




how like a novel trick

completion is forgotten



like barroom pack of matches

fighting for oxygen

at the bottom of the junk drawer.

Pleases Me Much

Sculpt. Shape. Carve. Dress. Paint.

Pleases me, it does, to mold into an image
That defies slump and wrinkle,
As if an old man who after 65 years didn’t have the courage
Or confidence to speak his mind
Finally got up from the kitchen table and told his wife
He wanted to quit his job and be a sculptor.

Pleases me it does to sober the frame into something challenging,
The curve of the back sure,
Legs attached to feet
Which balance and flirt in high heels.

This invention pleases me much,
As any whimsical touch
Be it a brush,
Or the feel of a woman’s suck,
Or a delicate wine and steak high
Or echoing starry trumpet notes of children running round.

View from the box

Whether carapace or quills
growth must occur.

To look in the mirror and be separated
from the body that stares back
erodes all defenses.

The bottling up of the voice that slips between gender
is as old as story itself

as Aesop's hare, who dared the sun
that he could hold his voice longer than the sun could shine,
and in doing so nearly lost his ability to trick his enemies.
He was given a pretty tail instead of his shout
to warn his mates.
Now he relies on speed, luck
and the ability to become as still as sun in midday,
the flash of tail that had once only belonged to the females
of their breed.

Adaptation is underrated, I'm thinking, and outside
the bathroom mirror, the rabbits eat, freeze, eat, and dart.

Like the rabbit I too eat, freeze, eat, and dart.

But the edges of that box are visible to me,
and what lies beyond
is too good to pass up.

Trying to make sense of what we know we cannot

TRANSLATION: DRESSING

When ruffled panties cut with satin slide over skin
The third eye opens and the heart is flush.

Muscle movements tighten like a schoolgirl crush
Skin responds
like exposed nerves in a tooth you forgot
while eating ice cream once,
it hurts but
in a good way, like sunshine and sunburn.

Then sucking backwards into the gravity of the clothes,
The gravity of the heels, which like an anchor
Lock the hips.

Sometimes it is as if the tide had knocked you on your knees
and ripped you out,
the beach deep
behind you
The stars
out and bright
as a lung spark

Sometimes you can make it back, sometimes
You’re adrift for days.

Dear God, can one live for so many years without stepping over the edge?

Tiresias

Tiresias was the blind prohphet from mythology. As a young man he struck two snakes making love and was punished by Hera and transformed into a woman (the first sex change). He was a woman for 7 years (and a famouas prostitute for the oracle of delphi) and had two daughters (who could both switch genders at will). She was transformed back into a male after again coming across two snakes, this time killing the male. His symbol, like Mercury/Hermes is the caduceus--twin snakes climbing a staff--the symbol for male and female.

This poem is from the perspective of Theresea....Tiresias as a woman

THE CHANGLING MOTHER EXPLAINS


Act like a man and be cheap
once a week,
it’ll help when you have to switch.

That bitch, the oracle, is often out of tune.
Learn how to pluck the right notes
from her throat. You’ll both be naturals,

you were born into this;
I wasn’t. Like waking up
to remember that somewhere beyond the scrim

there was another life
waiting for you like a copperhead
dozing on a rock, waiting

like a poison ring to open.
Word to the wise,
no playing both sides

there’s no luck in it.
You might get confused
if you try to befriend a lover

in the wrong body.
Be ready to avoid a beating, a rape.
That’s what stones do when they meet someone

like us; for to understand
what our flesh knows they have to swing
at our skulls. They must have our brains

on their skin
like wet cornmeal.
We’re so queer they must smash us

to acknowledge the body which is chorus
and congress of man, woman, and sky.
Remember, a woman’s great secret is that she is beautiful

without anything; especially a man,
or a child. Where a man
needs proof he exists.




If you haven't checked out Gender Variant Biography...get lost for a few hours.

Southern Friday Night Femme Playlist

Ladies...

Let's slide our heels slowly over our soles
and let the lipstick glide over wet skin.
By the roll of our hips
we are newly made...


Greetings, y'all. It's cold here, but my peach tree is buddin' (take that anyway you'd like, sweethearts) and my God

It's good to be girly once again!

A playlist--not necessarily a TG themed playlist---but more of an empowering shake your head and dig your heels playlist, capiche?

Everything is under control---Coldcut--featuring Mike Ladd and Jon Spencer: party mood setter. Shaka ya hipsa

Down in Missippi and Up to No Good--

Yo, go girl! Sugarland is sugary pop, perfect for Friday night.


Run Through the jungle--CCR--this deep groove is uber cool, plus for me a reminder of when my TG self was a hinderance and stressor. Total psychic suckage. And I was lucky.

Enough for now! On to cocktails and champagne!