I’m so happy with how my reading went tonight. When it first started, I blanked. I was so tempted to just close out of the streaming programs and apologize later that I had a panic attack. But something made me take that leap of faith, and it wasn’t dissociation. It was bravery.
I was smart to put the poem “Joey” first because it loosened me up and made me smile. Ah man, I can’t believe there were like 10 viewers. It’s really awesome and encouraging.
I noticed a lot of patterns and themes in my writing that I hadn’t before. One of the big ones is longing to be an animal and relating with animals more than humans. I hadn’t realized how prevalent this was until I listened to the recording afterwards.
There were a few times I stumbled and lost my place but for the most part, I was present, in a way that I never used to be for my readings in 2011-2016. I feel really accomplished. And not totally freaked out now that it’s over, like I want to self harm or something. Not at all.
Woo!
I’m going to copy in a few poems I read.
Joey
He is effortlessly himself
Light blue eyes
And a messy ginger beard
His chest hair creeps
Above his white tee shirt
And I am left dizzy
With the caress of my waist
I have been flighty
But he has been steady
Wise and kind
He is my man
We kiss among August fireflies
We laugh so hard over coffee
And when I’m in his arms
He smells like bonfires and sawdust
Like forests and home.
A grey ambiance
Blurry winter sun
Lavender and yellow sky
A grey ambiance
Light orange mushroom
On a log that is the den
For creatures unknown
A peeling birch tree
One gunshot far away
The crunching of leaves
Black cherry towers
So heavy, tall, and dark
The creaking of pines
Birds
Bluejay lands on branch
Chickadees eat the ragweed
Sky is a pale grey
Pinetrees reach toward the sun
Needles cover the earth below
Dark green boughs; still, cold air
At home with the land
A red tail hawk flies overhead
I sing to myself.
The stratosphere breaks
Light and airy thoughts
Sky cracks of yellow, white, and orange
Brilliant sun through slate lavender clouds
Blush orange and cream horizon
Steel blue shapes, moody
Drifting whisps
Dusty rays of light descend
Ink on my cold hands
I long for community
And fear others humans
Navy hills loom
A pheasant thumps her wings
And disappears into the pines
Four crows fly overheard
Talking to one another
Humans belong to the land
Humans belong to the sky
And I have a clear vision of myself
(Writer, artist, healer, builder, animal)
Then the stratosphere breaks
Revealing baby blue.
Naked
My pale naked form
In the white winter window light
It’s Christmas and it’s snowing
Thick, warm air radiates
My walls are baby blue
My angled ceiling is larch wood
My blankets are soft fleece
I begin my reconnaissance
Of belly fat and cellulite
Of unruly dark hairs that poke out
Of the scars on my thighs
Whose origin I’m ashamed to recall
Of so called
Hip dips
But this time I halt
These reprimands are just habitual
Perhaps, maybe, bear with me….
My body is sacred
Male, female,
Or person on a journey
To be as I am, terrifying
But worth it
Just like my ancestors
I take this awkward, two-legged form
To the animals, we probably all look mostly the same
The ancient wisdom before Rome
That we are creatures of earth
The queer realization
That we are moldable clay
With solid frames
Our bones outlast us
This once horrified me
I read of a lesbian feminist
Who said we may parade as men
With privilege
But the archaeologists
Will know the truth
This is absurd
But made me feel trapped
I dreamt of sanding down my hip bones
Was there a way?
I was a frankenstein monster in my mind
Where is the border between gender affirmation
And endless dysmorphic struggle?
I would transition, and still not feel alright
Testosterone gave me
The gift of my light beard
Fashioned me a baritone
Made me able to exist
Estrogen gives me
A shape and a softness
I now cherish
In which I feel at home, for now.
My pale naked form
In the white winter window light
The expansive air
I breathe in deeply
My own body
With no judgement
Just love
As a landscape
I will post the video of my
Elliott DeLine, Author 