1. |
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PORTRAIT OF THE YUNG NEGRO ARTIST @ 21 & ALIVE / JUST BARELY
forgot to moisturize my feet / for four days straight /i say forgot / like a prayer / mutter it incessantly at the 8 bus stop / miss the bus / say forgot like a prayer / forget my name / forget to clock in at work & instead land / No Where / in this empty / i still miss buses / i use uber so i can feel wanted again / in a No Where, i am picked up / i ooze coconut oil on my driver’s seats / they know better than to talk to me / know i could siren my own damn self / to sleep / i’m making rosewater today & spraying it on my boxers / i give my lovers herbs from the pockets of my leather jacket / blk ophelia / rosemary for remembrance / lavender in my wigs / shaved all my hair again / christened myself anew/ everyday / a new name / i let it fall through my lips / pour one out / there is a shade for all of the me’s / i mean to be / i stole most of them / from the drugstore / i leave most of myself/ on other people’s foreheads / they only want / to wipe me off / i am still so angry about the way we treated lil kim / there is glitter on my face /
& we are both blonde today. men don’t like the scent of me.
they only want / to wipe me off / so i’m crying / again / so it’s monday / queen / bitch / pt. iii / we know it ain’t cute /
it ain’t meant to be
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2. |
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Zoloft & Hot Cheeto Stains
(After Lora Mathis)
BLESS THE CRAZY BLK FEMME
MY MESS & ALL ITS RAtCHET/NESS
ALL ITS STANK
ITS ASHY ELBOWS & DROOLING MOUF
HOW MY CRAZY SPILLS OUT OF ME
AT THE LEAST RESPECTABLE TIMES
KISS ME & TASTE ALL MY EXTRA
BET IT’S JUST LIKE YR MOMMA’S COOKIN’
x
WHEN I THINK OF HUNGER I MEAN
HOW MANY MOUTHS WILL IT TAKE
TO SWALLOW MY OWN GHOST
& CALL IT PRETTY
CALL IT CRAZY & HAVE THAT BE OK
CALL IT CRAZY & HAVE THAT BE DESIRABLE
CALL IT CRAZY & BLK
& STILL BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY
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3. |
boi hood
01:16
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boi hood
remember when i was a boy // me neither // but my momma used to braid my hair all up // tight // bamboo in 1b // & i used to hate mirrors then // changed my name to kevin // but only when them cornrows was in // a chip off the ole hood // call it a block // a lapse in memory // i shapeshift into boy // ride my scooter & dart bullets // storm through playgrounds // remember when i had a boy’s parts // me neither // but my momma used to buy so much of our clothes from old navy during black friday // & i hated getting jeans from there // made me look like i had something to hide in my pants // made me look extra down there // & i have never been nothin // if not too much // somethin bout the inseam // i swear // i tornado thru puberties // made me boy when i didn’t know how to be // made me so aware of the way clothes took shape on my body without my permission // & i hated lookin like that // like hard jutted through my cheekbones // i north avenue // even in my finest dresses
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4. |
On Gender
01:50
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On Gender
Name a ghost.
Call it a girl.
Name a body.
Map a body like a chart of stars
Name a weapon.
Say pussy.
Say it to her face.
Now apologize for misgendering my pussy.
The moon & my pussy uses they/them pronouns.
Or u can call us bitch.
Or u can call us nigga, i guess
(the moon is black too)
The moon & i smile,
See,
we smart.
We know most of u can’t call us that
We on some trick shit,
Wear lipstick
& orbit on beats 2 & 4
Name a body.
Call it a knife
Say girl,
Right?
i call myself a boi & no one understands
i admit i don’t quite follow my own damn self
Still i fire
Soft & sharp toothed boi
i take happy
& wear it around my waist
i woo myself
i sing my pussy
to anyone who will listen
But it sings back Blk
My blk body makes a home of my mouth
We blk hole sun
To have a body & not be able to pass
For anything other than blk & woman-ish
You runnin yet?
Don’t worry. It’s fine.
Most people do.
It’s nothing we ain’t used to.
i ghost while still inside this body.
XX
In which my blk body goes blue
Becomes something other than a body or
Becomes Woman
again
Becomes Recognizable & Easy to Understand
In which without a body,
i become a person
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5. |
Twerk Lessons
02:50
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Twerk Lessons
i.
& you still can’t isolate them hips yet // don’t know enough about having rhythm in your soul the way it leaks out of your hands // your fingers can fold hair over & under// turn summer box braids into a family quilt // you can document the diaspora but not dance it // you keep trying anyway //
these are both things that will never leave your bedroom // what i mean is // this is what makes us girls // there is this shame that fits so easily on greased scalps // there is this frightened thing that runs down plaits // & we have the nerve to call it poetry
ii.
momma’s playin’ erykah again // the whole apartment smells of vanilla candles & cocoa butter // jill scott waits in the tub for your momma to join her // she saves a space in the bed like some kind of father figure // in the morning // they put on matching hoop earrings // the whole apartment feels like warm // the kind of love that comes from a thousand lip gloss stained forehead kisses // the kind of love like collard greens on the stove // we all take our shoes off & put on the satin bonnets //
what is it about being black & woman that makes you feel so tired all the time // it is only 6 pm //
there is still so much living left to do
iii.
girlhood comin’ towards you // softly smelling of shea
ashe // ashe // girlhood has to put on lotion every morning // girlhood lighting candles for a bath // or for a dinner // saying “everywhere you step is a place to be worshipped” // girlhood catches the spirit anywhere just to remind folks she’s still alive // that she still deserves to be alive // girlhood reading books on the stoop about different kinds of girlhoods // the kind without the double dutch & the liquor store on the corner // girlhood lookin’ like shower caps to the pool
girlhood’s favorite hand game went “shame shame shame” // girlhood hurting but hiding the scars in her cornrows // girlhood does not know how to part her hair that well / /she is afraid everyone else can see the wounds //
what is it about being black & woman that makes you feel so afraid all the time
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6. |
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someday I will love Kiarra
(after Ocean Vuong & Lucille Clifton)
you with all your syllables //
let us realize the moon // comes out so early now because // it can't get enough of you //
come celebrate with me // you whisper to your knees //in the bath // you can yell this // you know that // right // bitch?//
come celebrate // the death // of all fathers // & bury all surnames in your breasts // where all things that ain’t shit // go to die //
here // (a)shea
trust that all that is golden // is soft // is you on a bad day // is wanted // will never die // you knew this all along
they never will // so what of history? //
erase what doesn't smell of you //
so the end is near
& smells of lavender
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7. |
Outro
03:00
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Femme Tapes Portland, Oregon
Femme Tapes is a collective of artists whose work explores their expression of gender through the experiences of race, sexuality, and class.
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