Dear family 

Tyler Clementi was driven to suicide for being gay. When we excuse hate-driven language and actions, young people die.

Dear family,

I don’t know what to say to you because the things that you say to others and the things you don’t say to me already ring with the sounds hate, discrimination, and everything you taught us not to be. 

I see when you comment on news articles. They trickle through my feed. 

I see your posts to each other. They’re difficult not to read. 

I can see the things you like and the people in your life. 

I can see when you do nothing. 

I can see you. 

I can see. 

Bri Golec was murdered by her father for being Trans.

Your gleeful support of men and platforms which have clearly stated their hatred for Queers, Muslims, Black Americans, women, and the disabled is confusing and upsetting. 

That support echoes: at worst, of the bully-boys on the school yard teasing me to tears; at best, of the silent, sneering children as the others called their jeers. 

Would you see me converted through electroshock therapy? 

Am I to blame, in my queerness, for the nation’s faults? 

Do you believe that our fellow citizens should register based on their religion? 

Or that women are objects for men to taunt and abuse? 

Do you believe that a publicly operating business should be able to turn me away simply for a perception of queerness? 

And for that matter, do you even support my right to marry? 

Do you think I’m evil? 

How do I help you see that there is no difference between some discrimination and totally oppression.

Your behavior, your silence, and your support for these men and platforms leads me believe that the answer to each is yes. 

Yes to torture and to blame. Yes to abuse and to discrimination. Yes to the perception of evil. 

Dear family. I don’t know what to say to you because the things that you say to others and the things you don’t say to me already ring with the sounds hate, discrimination, and everything you taught us not to be. 

Haiku & Photography

Images will redirect to flickr for larger views.

 

1,951.

Walking, light bounces

From the passing glass and I’m

Free, reflecting too.

~

1,952.

Thoughts, like so many

Pieces of tempered glass, lay

Strewn about my feet.

Palm Insta

1,953.

Moon over city:

Pregnant possibility

Fills the lighted streets.

~

1,954.

Late start – on the move –

But I’ve got these fancy shoes

To keep me in groove.

~

1,955.

A thousand miles still

To go – they matter not when

I’m at home with you.

~

1,956.

Huddled ‘round the glow

We watch as Evening passes.

Moon and TV shine.

~

1,957.

Sun bounces off Street,

A friendly counterpart to

My light, happy feet.

~

1,958.

A false summer calls,

Siren sweet, and I run with

The cars on the street.

~

1,959.

Tornado of thought

Spirals through the mind; some spin

With heat; some with cool.

~

1,960.

Taking in the heat,

Strolling down the boulevard,

I watch passers by.

~

1,961.

The clothes rumble dry

With the words; Sunday begins

With laundry and verse.

~

1,962.

A slower pace as

Feet commute today I see

Signs of joy and peace.

~

1,963.

Cooling, like the air;

Thought and body still in the

Afterglow of change.

Poppy Insta

1,964.

Low clouds hold morning

As streets warm under the spin;

Rubber revolving.

~

1,965.

Enthralled with screen lights

I miss the falling sun and

Suddenly it’s gone.

~

1,966.

Patience slips away;

A subtle thief, she absconds

With my sanity.

~

1,967.

Rough commute today.

It’s ten steps from the bed to

The computer desk.

~

1,968.

I want more but I

Know I shouldn’t. Boundaries.

G-Free Fried Chicken.

~

1,969.

Headphones on, walking

A cooling commute under

The rising daylight.

~

1,970.

Preparing taxes.

I feel like death would be the

Easier route. Sigh.

~

1,971.

Condiment remnants

To the pot. Isn’t the best

Just a mess. Pulled pork.

Maze

1,972.

We’re pointed skywards,

The mountains and me, two things

Dreaming endlessly.

~

1,973.

A slower pace by

Foot, but happier for the

Air and pavement.

~

1,974.

At church for my hair.

Scissors and clippers dance with

The head. Music plays.

~

1,975.

Pedestrian paced

And still I’ve trouble finding

The way and the words.

~

These Haiku first appeared on Twitter in February & March 2013. Photographs are from my instagram, spring 2013. 

Haiku & Photography

1,301.

Sky pales at the touch

Of dawn, growing rosy and

Full with her caress.

~

1,302.

Mountains celebrate;

Clouds catch the sun; Dragon comes,

His breath lights the sky.

Cairns, Lake Vermilion

1,303.

Morning commute crawls;

Fury wakes in the left lane,

No exit for miles.

~

1,304.

Joshuas and the

Raven’s call – a fugitive

Peace while day is small.

~

1,305.

The commute, like Chance,

Faces two ways; its Janus-

Heart gives as it takes

~

1,306.

January ends,

Frosted mornings, balmy days;

I’ve a winter’s cold.

~

1,307.

Dodging morons in

Their machines – highway games make

Me misanthropic.

~

1,308.

The day begins as

Little birds flock, backpacks on,

Ready for the bell.

~

1,309.

These graffiti lines –

Silhouetted signs – words from

My flowering mind.

~

1,310.

Handwritten echoes,

Her hand on this envelope;

Grief’s moment, passing.

Cairns, Lake Vermilion

1,311.

Snow flurries burst through

The threshold; heaters quickly

Reveal youthful grins.

~

1,312.

Body vibrations

Subside with a steaming cup

Of peppermint tea.

~

1,313.

The devil on my

Shoulder says, “Just run that light;

There’s no cop in sight.”

~

1,314.

This skin, these thoughts, they

Aren’t me; this sound I make

Is a foreign scream.

~

1,315.

Dreams evaporate

At dawn with the morning’s dew;

Reality calls.

~

1,316.

In the darkest hour,

Shrouded with clouds, city lights

Still illuminate.

~

1,317.

Your most tender kiss

Is like a flip of the switch,

Banishing the night.

~

1,318.

That devil came back

And turned my foot to solid

Lead. “Faster,” he said.

~

1,319.

Prop 8 is struck down,

Perhaps love will conquer hate;

We are people, too.

~

1,320.

Oh, Prop 8, Prop 8,

That silly song born of hate,

Struck down by the state.

Cairns, Lake Vermilion

1,321.

Moon winks, ‘good morning,’

Through wisps of clouds; Sun peaks and

Mobile City wakes.

~

1,322.

From behind the trees,

Yellow eyes stare back at me –

Too big to predate.

~

1,323.

Yellow coyote

Moon howling fully over

Los Angeles streets.

~

1,324.

Lights coalesce;

Dawn’s rays caress a falling,

Fortuitous moon.

~

1,325.

Leaves of amber grass

Roll gently in the wind, like

Words beneath the pen.

~

These haiku first appeared on Twitter in January and February of 2012.  The photographs were taken at Lake Vermilion, Minnesota, June 2012.