feeling kinda bummed;
was expecting more than just
two friends holding hands

[ I just finished watching The Legend of Korra and I have to say… I’m pretty bummed about the way Korrasami turned out. While I understand the creators weren’t sure what sort of homoromantic subtext they could get away with, there is NO subtext in the show. None, not even a teeny tiny you’d-have-to-be-queer-to-pick-up-on-it bit. I’m the queen of picking up on queer subtext and believe me, I would notice if Korra and Asami were sending signals, even subtle ones. They barely even speak to each other in the last season, let alone in the last few episodes! Even their final conversation, the one which leads them to go off together into the spirit world, doesn’t in any way hint they may have deeper feelings for each other. For all intents and purposes, they’re just two friends going off for a well deserved vacation. Even the fact that they hold hands in the last five seconds of the show isn’t really proof of anything; Korra makes more obvious moon eyes at Mako in the final episode than she ever does at Asami. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Korrasami is canon, and it sounds like the comics will develop their relationship further, but… I’m still bummed. I was really hoping for some legit representation, even if it did occur in the very final episode. But that? That wasn’t anything. Oh well. Good thing I still have all the queerness of Hannibal and Carmilla… ]


“Dum spiro te amo”

kiss and raise a fist
give your bow, gentlemen
this stage won’t forget

[ If you haven’t read Kathe Koja’s stunning work Under the Poppy, or its equally as heart-wrenching and powerful sequels The Mercury Waltz and just-released The Bastards’ Paradise, do yourself a favor… read them all. Now. ]


“Dear Dental Hygienist”

I exercise frequently, though not joyfully.
I get my eight hours of sleep, my eight glasses of water, my three meals a day.
I don’t eat red meat or greasy food,
fatty food, fried food, or fast food.
I take vitamins B and D, and Airborne when I get a cold.
I go to the doctor, the chiropractor, and the dentist
and I floss every night.
I look both ways before crossing the street;
I don’t smoke, drink alcohol, or drive without my seatbelt.
So, you know what?
If I want to drink sugary black tea every day
and rot my teeth in the process,
I feel I’ve earned it.
I think I’ll live.


I think I’d rather be Atlantis
or maybe Pompeii;
at least they went out in a blaze of glory
ninety-foot waves and boiling ash clouds;
at least they went out fast
Mother Nature reclaiming Her body
with a thunderous upheaval;
I think that would be better than
a slow death by pollution
climate change and vanishing bees;
I think anything would be better than
eking out existence in a desert
that used to be an ocean
and pretending this mass extinction
is just a coincidence.


Roses are red
violets are blue;
defining who’s queer
is not up to you.

[ Okay, this is kind of a toss-away poem, but it’s been popular on my Tumblr so I figured, why not post it here for Asexuality Awareness Week? I make no secret of my stance on gatekeeping the word “queer” and will go full-on mamma cat if the topic comes up. I can discuss it calmly… until you start denigrating aces and other folks who aren’t “traditionally” queer. Then you better watch out. ]