Posts Tagged ‘ Trace Peterson ’

Trace Peterson Reads at Zinc Bar – Don Yorty

 

Trace Peterson

Source: Trace Peterson Reads at Zinc Bar – Don Yorty

With a Petroleum Coating by Trace Peterson – Poems | poets.org

With a Petroleum Coating

Trace Peterson

The exoskeleton dries by the radiator. What is the usefulness of shells, as in putting them up to one’s ear to detect the poem? Isn’t it infringeable that we carry our mating rituals into teleology? Isn’t it lately that our mates don’t often insert parts? The problem, as if splashed onto canvas in a never-drying medium, isn’t it that we can be hurt from without as if by wifi, by rumor? By cell tower? By stork? Thanks for caring. The storks along the beach stand on one leg, and then slowly generously fly away, including me, like a teacher who warns against trying to make absent things present. What do all these little knobs on the console do? This one flies us straight into battle with a petroleum coating. This one parodies the last erotic feeling. This one entices us to have babies with the reader, sitting lax on a conveyor belt that suddenly falls off at the end into someplace decent. In your guest room, draped with necklaces, we feel thinner than a Mobius strip, real wolf fur rug inside and out, real antler chandelier. In your guest room we peel an alien tangerine.

Source: With a Petroleum Coating by Trace Peterson – Poems | poets.org

Trace Peterson – Identity, Praxis, and kari edwards’ Trans Poetics  | Poetry Center

Trace Peterson, pictured with succubus in my pocket by kari edwards

Lambda Literary established a new award in Transgender Poetry for the first time one year ago.

Source: Identity, Praxis, and kari edwards’ Trans Poetics | Poetry Center

2018 Summer Writing Program

Source: 2018 Summer Writing Program

Poets Trace Peterson and Samuel Ace to Read April 19, 2017 :: Yale Graduate Poets Reading Series

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Charles Bernstein and Trace Peterson Read Poetry

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Bernstein and Peterson Read Poetry | DIA

Exclusively on Venus by Trace Peterson | The Brooklyn Rail

EXCLUSIVELY ON VENUS

by Trace Peterson

Roses are red / violets are transsexual / welcome to womanhood / now get to work honey

Roses are performative / violets are biological / I have very sensitive breasts / and so do your breasts

Roses are biological / you have the nicest skin / I can’t stop kissing you / let’s read more nondualistic queer theory

Roses are fed up / with our binary fetishes / I fucked my doctors / and stole all the medication to hide it in a cave and share it with other trans people

Roses have got me / up against the wall / kissing my neck / which is socially constructed to be a super hot strong feminist neck

Roses are violet / violets are roses / I really like you / I like you tube

Roses are born this way / violets have a lesbian streak / something about your dry sense of humor and our soft intertwined limbs / feels transcendently female

Roses are blue / violets are violet / roses are nonviolet / blue is bluenormative

Roses are from mars / violets had the whole surgery / setting up camp / exclusively on Venus

Roses have gone too far / not to be what girls are made of / I’m coming out / to my academic colleagues as a poet and I bet they will run away screaming

Roses are roses / violets are born this way / someone’s got a hoard / of heteronormative transaffirmation porn you say?

Roses are cheeky / I want you to fuck me / drown violets like an accused witch / in your arms which feel like mine

Violets got a name change / roses changed a pronoun / we ate at a restaurant / and forgot to put the leftovers in the fridge

Roses are trochaic / violets have their original plumbing / let’s march in a protest / then go home and we’ll cook something delicious and eat it with a spork

Violets are permanent / roses are impermanent / thank you for becoming me / offering to embrace your form your fate

Flowerbeds are umbrellas / umbrellas are rubrics / I support your identification / and your disidentification

Men are from women / roses are from Jupiter / women are from men / I can’t tell which is softer, your lips or this pillow or the snow descending gracefully outside

Two by Trace Peterson | The Brooklyn Rail