1.14.17 3:44AM

Tu Sicaria Prod Beauty Brain — Love it

La Reina Rata

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Ecstatic evisceration.

After an afternoon of art drop off in Brooklyn followed by cuddling with Eric and falling asleep during crime shows, I’m now up in the middle of the night having a protein bar and being amused by a combination of King Of The Hill reruns and zombies of the past trying to affix their names and little not-actually-much-to-tell allusions to online pictures of me and my husband at a gallery opening. They  say never read the comments. But sometimes it’s funny.

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Stephanie

This is a recording of my first public reading.

Stephanie is the story of an African-American trans-woman
who falls in love with a white sailor in the late 1960’s.

Stephanie is womanly so the sailor is shocked when Stephanie
explains that her birth name is Stephen; the young sailor searches
his soul and decides he’ll pay for a sex change.

This recording is my performance of Stephanie’s story of her transition.

There is no hard copy of Stephanie.

After the reading, I decided I hated the monologue, and destroyed it.

Stephanie
Written and performed by Rob Goldstein
(c) Rob Goldstein 1984- 2016 all rights reserved

 

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After the Reading

My favorite
characters
have spilt
my guts
in public–

Now alone
with
my ‘self’

though I
possibly
never was,
am
perhaps
a pretty
lie.

The globe
spins for
the sake
of
tradition.

Gravity
binds
us to

memories
of sudden
lingering-

death.

 

Words and image (c) Rob Goldstein 2014

I wrote this poem after a public reading, hence the reference to
‘characters’ spilling my guts.

“the dooth pattern” by Harsubagh Khalsa

A friend of mine on Flickr told me that he was toying with the idea of starting a blog for his poetry.

I invited him to post to my blog as an experiment so he can see how his poetry looks and feels on a blog.

Today I present “the dooth pattern” by Harsubagh Khalsa

tieing spirally laces

 

     lips summer from umbrella

         tieing spirally laces

     granting the filament

hard deep suggest then

     it doesnt matter stuff

       it doesnt matter when

   hearting cade

           river nance

         too much piruling

                 a scarry race

                       the scurry dance

                     delected dreams

                         mind beaming the

                             ridge patterns

 

Image and poem are the property of Harsubagh Khalsa.
(c) Harsubagh Khalsa All Rights Reserved