Food Fuck

“Tonight.”

You say this and wink.

Only up to breakfast and already at bed.

I fear you may not make it.

“Tonight.”

I reply this and sigh.

Only from breakfast till bed.

So much time, I can’t take it.

“Perhaps a noon nap.”

I suggest this and wink.

There will be no sleeping.

Not till tonight.

“Perhaps a noon nap.”

You reply this and think.

Sleeping time goes quickly.

It soon will be night.

“And maybe a morning quickie.”

You request this and smile.

Your plate it empty.

Waiting for a second helping.

“And maybe a morning quickie.”

I reply this and laugh.

A full cup for now.

Second grounds for later.

“Desserts too.”

I say this and grin.

So many sweet options.

And not enough sugar .

“Desserts too.”

You reply this and clap.

You like vegan baked goods.

But how about being covered in honey?

“And an afternoon snack.”

You beg for this and whine.

Four meals before night.

I hope you aren’t taking more than your fill.

“And an afternoon snack.”

I reply this and nod.

Four meals before night.

Can it fill me? Maybe it will.

“So much food to prepare.”

You say this and shrink.

I see your eyes shining.

You know what I think.

“So much food to prepare.”

I reply this and stand.

I hold out an apron.

“You can start with breakfast dishes.”

Headspace

The healing space.

The shadow place.

Sacred visions.

Ritual.

Headspace.

Not everyone is allowed.

The entrance is barred.

Sealed.

Locked.

Few may open it.

The turnkey is the connection.

Consent is the latch.

Skillfully applied hinges can open that door.

But it takes trust.

A willingness to be vulnerable.

To be seen.

Revealing oneself is scary.

There is so much to fear.

Fear of losing.

A family so new.

Torn away.

A hurt so strong.

Not ready to let go.

Fear of succeeding.

Reaching a point where all else melts away.

Wondering what you’ll find there.

Who you’ll be.

Who you’ll see.

Bliss.

In knowing that none of it matters.

That time is no more.

And there is no good or bad.

Nothing ugly.

Only “yes”.

And “more”.

Finding a depth within you.

Resounding in places you feared weren’t there.

Where worlds could get swallowed.

And lost.

Then created.

And made new.

Fresh.

Gasping.

Clean and whole.

A sacred vision.

Of the shadow place.

A healing space.

For Ms. Flora-

no alarm alerts us

but we're awake already

you on your pillow i on mine

or rather

on your shoulder

i'm looking at you and you look at me

its a sight of sirens

i restrain myself

my urges

i long to lick you

to let my tongue taste you

i want to wrap you with me

to feel your curves under my body

under my touch

you roll me 'round

your hands are hunting

hungry

my body is your forest your field

i gasp as you bite gnaw graze

your feeding ground

arms around and we both squeeze

entwined in a tensed embrace

sweet sensuous satisfying

thrusting out of orbit

spasms among the stars

we crash into the cosmos

falling out of flight

we reenter earth

to collapse onto the covers

good morning

Elemental Emotions

Come into the fire.

Let our heat warm you.

Let the energy engulf you.

Step into the fire.

Let my tongues taste you.

Bronzing your flesh.

Wade into the water.

Let our coolness sooth you.

Let the feelings flow.

Dive into the water.

Let it pour over you.

Gushing out of you.

Push me down.

Deep into your being.

Where we can grow.

On legs created from our connection.

Of emotions unbound.

Lift me up.

I’ll take you with me.

Together we can soar.

With wings formed in the crucible.

Of our love.

Eyes

Eyes

I saw eyes

Peering out of the darkness

Piercing

Searching

Stalking

Quivering

Legs

Tensed

With feline kneading

Gathering energy

Anticipating a pounce

Expecting a kill

Paws

Toying with their prey

Directing me to my final destination

Pushing

Turning in circles

I am

Looking up

I saw where I was going

I hesitated

Staring at that mouth

Teeth

Bared

A growl

A grin

A set trap

Waiting to snap

Bite

Gnaw

Dripping

Before opening up

And taking me in

Swallowing

Hungry

Wanting more

And more

Always

More

Gasping

For more

There is a squeak

As the meal of me

Hits the spot

And the teeth bare down

And the claws sink in

And the legs quiver harder

And the eyes flash wider

Falling from the fabric jungle

We crumble to the blanket tangle

Sweating from the encounter

Sighing

Smiling

Satisfied

Another successful hunt.

Untitled

If we had met but 5 years ago

I could have been your boy

We could have dated

And more

But I don’t think it would have lasted

My gay to your lesbian

It wasn’t a match made in heaven

For sure we’d’ve been thrown in hell

(Queers aren’t supposed to swing that way

You know

It’s just not natural)

Time changed and things went by

I met you but a few months ago

When we started dating

And more

At first it was dyke on dyke

But with a certain disclosure

It became man (more or less) and woman (more or less)

And sex came into question

Still queer (more or less)

And yet not

Now I worry

Over my hesitation

To rejoin the straight nation

Take exhibit A: a penis

And exhibit B: a vagina

And both are still attached

And when the two interact

How transgressive can that be

How radical does that seem

Unless the boi is getting fucked

And of course

Sex of that sort

Can only be called one thing

Incidental het’rosexual.

On Hybrid Bodies

Hybrid bodies are beautiful. They are. I’ve declared it so. Hybrid bodies hold an allure, and I’m not referring to the blooming genre of transporn. Shemale. Chick with a dick. We’ve heard it all. There seems to be a message, from self-proclaimed tranny-chasers to society in general, that we aren’t supposed to be okay with our bodies unless they look like everyone else’s. Well, I don’t buy that.

Hybrid: a thing made by combining two different elements, composed of mixed parts. How many of us have gone through transition (whatever that means for you) and have reached a point, somewhere in there, when we had a penis and breasts? (The same happens for many transguys too, only they might reach a point of having a vagina and a flat chest.) At that point, we’re faced with several decisions. A: hide my body as I continue to struggle to afford “the surgery” (which won’t ever happen for many of us). B: learn to accept having a hybrid body.

Say it with me, “hybrid bodies are beautiful”. If we can spread this mantra around we can create a culture where our bodies aren’t marginalized, eroticized, violated, or hated. If we can make a campaign out of this then we can create support for all transfolk to be proud of their bodies, regardless of what surgeries they have or haven’t had done. Regardless of what combination of body parts they do or don’t have.

Lets make hybrid bodies visible for all to see. At pride this year I want to see transwoman marching topless in the dyke march. I want to visit the nude beach and see hybrid bodies frolicking in the sun. I want to go to a burlesque show and see a hybrid bodied performer who isn’t trying to hide, reshape, or cover up their parts. I want to attend open mics and hear people talk about owning a hybrid body and all the issues and comedies that come with that. I want to see a movement of hybrid bodies.

All because hybrid bodies are beautiful!