The summer is on fire
And something in my soul is in embers
The keys glow from too many ideas
We write at the National Museum
queer stories about poly Guinevere
and share queer fics about transformers
There are poems, and books, and games, and dramaturgic curves narrating themselves through our life, our blood, the tips of our fingers
The embroidered art speaks of resistantance
A thin line through time from women painting women to rooms of power to the non rooms of information overflow
But the creation cannot be stopped
It's a rampaging baloth of non consumerist malkavianism, it's infectious and deadly
existence in its purest form
and we form Queer Quill Society
just to make a queer and philosophical poetry retreat
and we have board meetings to make open stages for the young
and we curse the right wing government
trying to end our curse
the curse of living culture clawing its way out of human bodies, demanding like the lesbian screams from wells of loneliness to merely and completely exist
we have drunk from the well of sorrows
and the voices of the human affliction haunt us now
you must write
like breath in your chest
or suffocate
this art is the flame
that lights the self on fire
and stokes the revolution
and it refuses to be confined to mortal flesh and will and tired queer artists' trembling hands
it sneaks out between the words and builds new homes in other hearts
starts forest fires in the abyssal woods of hopelessness
and drags the waters for survivors
and when the weighlessness recedes it lets you drown just to pull you up and shake your bones
For it waits for no one
it demands your breakfast plate and morning thoughts
it lives in the spaces outside and inside
and it bursts out of your chest and hides in the vents
and then stalks your dreams to grow
larger than beanstalks against the eclipsed night sky
And there you are beautiful human
cultivating the garden of flames in your chest
licking the smoke from discord friends
calling the lifeboats and ringing the bells
And here I am coughing in the firestorm and drowning in the ocean
still letting the waves flow out their words
and flames light up the tags on AO3
cutting paper til the paper cuts back
printing, sowing, painting, writing, composing, designing, crying, hoping, creating, creating, creating, creating...
The summer is in flames
there is a fire stoked and it demands
a vessel for its yields
to burn all wild and free