Rosemary @honeybrew_coffee@computerfairi.es

I love being a stone butch

I may joke about poetry being like a disgusting bodoly function, an excretion of a spiritual fluid; but, more often than not I make poetry like I build furniture from scratch. Milling the raw lumber, shaping the individual pieces, putting them together with mortices and tenons, and working to make it into a coherent, stable whole.

Awoo

I finally finished the art in my zine. Now to make copies and immediately give ten to someone to distribute before I try to hunt them down and destroy them

Some days just leaves me so happy and excited to be a butch

If profundity could avoid me during my working hours I would greatly appreciate it

Being a novice in something on my thirties is such an interesting experience when I am being taught by people a decade younger than me. I love it when younger folk have something to teach me

I should be a giant wolf laying on their lap like I'm a lapdog

I should be shimmering with sweat and carving wood for my wife

I should be home doing prettyboy butch shit

Send me to a farm upstate, I'm ready to go

Femmes y'all *turns into a puddle of pink goo*

The challenge of writing something incredibly sincere that you yourself needs to hear is that it feels cringe every editing pass and you just want to burn it every time you look at it even if others say it's good

This leather skirt I bought on thrift to rehab and give away is calling to me like the Green Goblin mask.

I dream of hand tools, I dream that G-d puts an adze into my palm and gently curls my fingers around it's smooth oak handle and asks me with a curiosity so vast and deep as to fill me "what will you carve for yourself, what will you build for others, daughter?"

Always and forever a mutant

Bless leather

There are elders everywhere, they didn't all die, and they'd do anything to pass their wisdom on to you. No need to reinvent the wheel when it comes to survival, the recipes exist and are here.