#edwinbodney

AHHH THIS IS REALLY REAL AND HAPPENING!!! MY BOOK SHIPS WITHIN THE WEEK AND MY BOOK RELEASE IS JANUARY 14th!! SAVE SAVE SAVE THE DATE!!! I would love to see all my loved ones' faces there!! #poetry #edwinbodney #poems #writing #losangelespoetry #losangeles #queer #lgbtliterature #lgbt #blackauthors #spilledink #writing #bookstagram

Is really adamant about feeling differently than the rest of my body today. It is a stubborn child tugging at my sleeve And I don't want sleep I don't need to laugh in the morning I just want it to stop.

Myko (pronounced mee-ko) is the 2 month old kitten I adopted today and he's perfect. I didn't actually have the money to adopt him so I wrote they asses a check. When you don't have money, always write a check, fuck debt. They can cash it now lol I have always wanted one in my life, and since I probably shouldn't have a kid right now, this cat is a perfect addition. Since my MS diagnosis almost 2 weeks ago, I also thought he'd be appropriate. Don't ask me about logic, cats are perfect and clearly ran out of fucks centuries ago like I have. Myko is obsessed with my hands and anything that adorns them, specifically my bracelets; he doesn't give a shit about the toys. I, too, am obsessed with a man's hands the way one might be with specific kinds of art or....insects. He's absolutely rambunctious but immediately claimed me as his person and for that I am grateful and know we'll be inseparable now. Even when my living room had three other people in it, he passed along some attention and then returned to me, always resting by my heart and head. He's already exhibited heightened intuitive abilities as I noticed him watch something unseen near the foot of my bed. For this, I am also grateful. Where he chooses to rest--beside me-- is also fascinating. He tends to stay on my left side always near my neck head and chest. This is the side most effected by my MS episodes, so it's as though he already senses where he's needed most. So far, he follows instructions the way many cats do--so not at all. But he at least understands cues to wind down. Now he is curled on my chest as I type this. I was quite nervous at my impulse decision to adopt him, but Myko the Duke is mine now, and I his. I made the right decision and I believe he feels the same.

Like the body leaving itself In a single-file line And you are standing in the very front, The doorway Everything is passing through

Some days seem like they'll be easier than others, until I actually get up. All mornings, I wake up and feel instantly winded; like my body just finished a sprint from danger, but it's not like in dreams. In the dreams, there is usually the moment of impact, you dart up, clutch your chest and wipe the sweat from your face...and the illusion fades back into the night with maybe a glass of water. But here....in this...illness, I wake up at odd times. There is no impact if I feel I am running. I just wake. The sweat is cold. My legs feel both heavy, but unanchored and there is no pain-for now-just a weight, my tired heart, and the wonder if it will all work tomorrow.

On Disease #2, and again Multiple Sclerosis/ MS is/ the abbreviation for/ "I will fit inside of you" Will expand A new vocabulary To slur your mouth into a language you cannot speak your name from Will turn a solar panel from The underside of your skin To let the sun feast from you like it ain't always been the other way around Your body is the other way around now, But who said the sun would stop turning to follow?

On Disease #2, and again... Typing with both hands, maybe Mathis(this) is what it looks like when I type with both hands and I cannot erae(erase) The things that have been fone(done) Cannot change a Sunday into never Cannot untuition my self into hate enough To ifnore(ignore) that(the) parts leaving me The partys(parts) leaving me Parts leaving Me. Both hangss(hanfs)(hands).

On Disease #2, again I have to wear things that are easy to get into now Walls- Things I've spent my lifetime tearing with the tremble in my spirit/ Must be close now It has escaped me; Lives in the curdling tremor of my hands How quickly a totem becomes a leaning post