Or butch or femme or cis or trans

It is Pride in Boston and this year it feels especially political, what with the current administration being generally full of homophobic, transphobic embarrassments to ass clowns. Here is a selection of more than usually queer things I have had published on the internet in recent years. Most are poems; three are flash; two are short stories. Some ghosts. Minor autobiography. I regret nothing about Shakespeare/Marlowe.

"Persephone in Hel" (Stone Telling #3, 2011)
"The Clock House" (Stone Telling #7, 2012)
"Lyric Fragment" (Goblin Fruit #26, 2012)
"The Green Man Answers the Classifieds" (inkscrawl #4, 2012)
"In the Firebird Museum" (Stone Telling #8, 2012)
"Ψάπφοι Σελάννα" (Apex Magazine #47, 2013) [notes]
"The True Alchemist" (Not One of Us #51, 2014)
"In Winter" (Lackington's #3, 2014)
"Anonymity" (Mythic Delirium 1.2, 2014)
"After the Red Sea" (Goblin Fruit #35, 2014)
"ζῆ καὶ βασιλεύει" (Ideomancer 14.1, 2015)
"On Two Streets, with Three Languages" (Interfictions #7, 2015)
"Skerry-Bride" (Devilfish Review #16, 2016)
"Vocatio" (Twisted Moon #1, 2016) [notes]

My plans for the day include wearing Sir Fabulous the Third and seeing a movie with lesbians. I admit this does not necessarily differ from a regular Saturday.

Let's make forever in one moment

So I started my day with the Wachowskis' Bound (1996)—which I will write about, although I might need to sleep more than two hours first—and continued it by attending Pride with a work colleague of spatch's and meeting up with her best friend and his boyfriend and eventually a third mutual friend of theirs at the parade. City Hall Plaza was a glorious zoo of flags and signs and face paint and people of various ages, genders, ethnicities, abilities,¹ orientations, and degrees of clothing. Thanks to him sending a picture of his immediate surroundings, i.e., taller people, we located the best friend right around the time the contingent from MSPCA-Angell followed by the Boston Hoohahs came through. (I had not been warned that he looked distractingly like a young Timothy Spall. I made it very clear that this was a compliment.) There was a lot of noise and confetti. I came out of it with a pair of rainbow sunglasses, a very large rainbow tote bag, and a triple string of beads in the colors of the bi flag which I will probably hang next to my delegate's pass from the Democratic State Convention. Twice we thought the parade was over and we were wrong both times; we finally left in search of frozen yogurt somewhere after Capital One. I was very glad not to miss the Boston chapter of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, whom I will always cherish for canonizing Derek Jarman. I hadn't even known there was a Boston Gay Basketball League. The float for the Orlando Pulse survivors—its flags bearing the names of the dead—raised an earthquake of support. I left the house without a camera and got no pictures of anyone, but I would say it was a joyous afternoon. I spent most of my time applauding. I really didn't need to have brought a jacket. This may have been the first community/political event I've attended since the beginning of the year at which I did not run into anyone I knew already and I think that is kind of wonderful. I was at ease with strangers. There was a giant rainbow flag hung out at City Hall.

1. I saw people with canes and people with wheelchairs, but the pair of people conversing in ASL without disruption from all the cheering and music had clearly won communicating in a crowd.