The Mistress Of My Love & My Fk

My love, she brings me violets
from her garden.
They wither and hang on.
She sneaks around her husband
to kiss me on the side street
behind the bar.

My fk, she steals away from her
girlfriend around midnight
once a week.
She used to be my love,
but now we just fck.
She knows about my new love and
her heart aches a little cuz she knows
I’ll always be loved somewhere
in between.

A transwoman halfway between
commitment and a promise,
half a human to most people,
except the few women who let me
exist with their breaths,
then I am whole only cuz
the two of us are
whole together,
holding each other’s corporeal
souls.

They know me more than
halfway
then.
They believe they are alive
in ways they’ve never lived.

A Kyeurmic Love

I can have a Kyeurmic love
in myself
that leads me to be joyous,
giving,
charitable,
easy & patient,
exuberant,
realistic,
authentic,
forgiving,
accepting,
and
gentle
with myself.

So that I can be all this
with the many lovers and friends
I love
and respect their liberty to be
who they are with themselves
with this world
and with other lovers and friends as well.

Life is one soul with many colors.
I can live in color.

The Kyeurmic love is made for lovers.

Jhoon teethokwa dawn tathoo’way!

Libertine-Still-Corporatist Blood

The hallway outside the
Chicago Nonmonogamy Conference
smelled like eggs Gascognais
and spilled wine.
That’s fine, but it’s May and
smells like this shouldn’t persist over
the flowering outside and the
fresh steamed carpet of the
conference center.
So I looked for a new lover
between the walls of beige and
carpet of gray, like the thoughts of
corporations, the smell persisted
to make me wonder what intestinal
culture existed there where the other
culture does but doesn’t exist in
some way
in our libertine-still-corporatist blood.