Feeling Is First

 What follows is a poem about a negative experience I had being a third for an established couple. I've had other very positive experiences in triad relationships. This one just happened to be bad.  ~ I take honey in my coffee.  No matter how careful I think I'm being,  I always get some on my fingertips.  Oh well. I love to lick it off.  She is both the honey and the coffee.  The bitter makes the sweetness sweeter.  My caution is irrelevant. Each day she will be who she is, and I will enjoy her.  ~  I was crying about something else. Not him.  "I'm really a delicate creature," I said. "I can tell…" he said, "I want that…" So I wrote a poem to his gentleness.  I wonder, now, if even then there was  manipulation in the sentiment. Did he think me easy prey? Did he hear delicate as moldable?  Could those tender hands intend the harm inflicted?  Or was the abuse almost accidental? Is toxic masculinity a sword he's un...

 I grew up on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I regularly rewatch it. I'm part of a Buffy fan group on Facebook. I went as a Slayer for Halloween multiple times. I've fan-girled about cast members at cons. I've even asked my family to play music from Buffy at my funeral.  News of Joss Whedon's abusive behavior is not surprising, but it's still heartbreaking. Many fans have been expressing a sentiment similar to this: Joss Whedon's shows helped me become the kind of person who would not tolerate Joss Whedon's abusive behavior.  I'm not going to say anything more profound than anyone else has been saying. Buffy was monumental for femme empowerment and queer representation. It wasn't a perfect show, but it holds a significant place in pop-culture history. Many people much smarter than me are writing about this.  But I need to be clear about where I stand on this. He's one of my favorite creators, and he's chosen cruelty over and over again. I have to ...

 Every single person who has bought one of my chapbooks has been someone I personally know. A friend. And honestly, I hope it stays that way.  I value accessibility, definitely. I want my poetry to be available for anyone and everyone who needs it to find it. But that's not the same thing as fame.  I don't want fame. I don't want a huge follower count that's half robots & scammers. I don't want an inbox full of brand ambassador requests.  I just wanna keep sharing my poetry with my friends.  And I wanna make new friends! I wanna engage with other artists and writers and musicians and Richmonders and parents and queers and survivors and activists. I wanna know what they value. I wanna support them and uplift them.  I wanna give back. I wanna pay forward.  So I spent a lot of time today going through my follower lists and reaching out to people or removing scammers. I'm planning to continue this process for a while. I want to be really intentional ab...

I have started to collect my poems into chapbooks and sell them for $10 each. It is a strange thing to sell one's art. It is uncomfortable to ask friends, family members, and followers to buy your art. When so much content is free, it's easy to be picky about what we pay for. Certainly I, myself, am picky about which art I pay for.  I appreciate artists who are transparent about their finances and their intentions, so I want to offer up my own honesties on those topics. Here it goes:  Our Current Financial Situation We are a polyamorous family of 8 living on one income. My husband is a computer programmer with a good salary. My partner is a college student working on a computer science degree. My main gig at the moment is being Teacher Mommy to our five kids.  I worked outside the home before the pandemic. Most of my income at that time paid for childcare. Maybe I will work outside the home again in the future. Maybe I will continue to focus on parenting and art. We’ll s...

One of the best things I saw on the internet this week was the quote, "Self-love without self-awareness is useless." Yes! This quote has been attributed to Qasim Chauhan and Xochitl Frausto, but I don’t think anyone knows who actually said it. What’s important is that more and more people are moving beyond the narrow perspective of self-indulgence as the only type of self-love.  Indulgence absolutely has its place and time. It feels so good to love yourself enough to embrace opportunities for indulgence without fear. It feels so good to let your belly be full. It feels especially good to share treats with others in a sincere spirit of celebration without any guilt.  But indulgence every day isn't self-love; it's just harmful. We limit the kids to two treats a day unless it is a special occasion. Right now the favorite treats are cookies and fruit snacks. We say, "Treats are good for our happiness but bad for our teeth." If I limit the kids, shouldn...

A personal perspective feels too small, but a global perspective is beyond my grasp. I want to tell you that for the first time in my life, I'm not sleeping. I stare out the window and wish for sleep until I give in to continued awakeness. I want to tell you that I am obsessively exercising. I keep thinking, "I have to be well for my kids. I might be their only parent soon." I want to tell you that I hate to leave the house. I used to be a person who complimented strangers. Now I am avoiding eye-contact and silently seething about strangers getting too close to me. But all of that is meaningless in context. Who cares about my sleep hygiene when the working poor are being exploited? There are refugees in crowded camps with no protection. There are children, right here in my own city, locked up together and getting sick. There are migrants here in my state, in the town where I got married, locked up together, at greater risk of infection, not for any violent crimes or fli...

Him: How many kids do you have? Me: 5 Him: Like all 5 are your kids? Me: What do you actually want to know? Him: What? Me: I have 5 kids. They are my kids. Do you want to know how many pregnancies I had? How many births? If some of my kids are adopted? If I breastfed? What do you actually want to know? Him: *silence* OK, so I barked at the dude. But he is neither the first nor last person to ask me some variation of the question, "Which of these kids are REALLY yours?" Yo. I just told you. They are all mine. I cook their meals and wash their pee-soaked clothes. I bandage their scrapes and clip their finger-nails. I zip up their coats and braid their hair. I read with them and play with them and sing with them. I hold them and comfort them. Every. Single. Day. They call me Mama. All five of them call me Mama. And why shouldn't they? Aren't I doing everything to fulfill that roll? Look, I'm happy to answer your earnest questions. One woman said, "...