Why did I write BEARDED LADY?

This morning a friend messaged me on Facebook. "I name-checked you in a thread," he said. It was about Conchita Wurst, the bearded Austrian drag queen. There was a guy in the thread who was talking about how women shouldn't have beards, that he found them unattractive.

It was just the way he wrote it. As if his opinion mattered to the rest of the whole-wide-world, as if it dictated reason. As if someone different should crawl into a hole and stay there pending the world's approval.

I wrote BEARDED LADY for people who feel different. And really, that's all of us.

Tonight's poem

Optimism at 10 p.m.

I'm not sure
who stacksthe cards.How to tellwhether their handwill stay steadyor knock and bump?Our lives
are in the grips
of others
and we know this,
but choose not
to acknowledge it
at this hour,
late for some,
beginning for others.
Your foolishness
is my pride.

Maizie dog

First draft of a poem

Emeryville Train Tracks, 2:30 p.m.

We are looking
for a lost dog.
Her name is Merlot.
Like a fine drunkenness
she has evaded us,
slipping traps,
stymying would-be rescuers.
Here the tracks
run without reason
to all locations --
there is nothing
 to stop her
from running as well,
fleeing to her death.
Here the rocks
edge against the sides
of my sandals,
begging me:
Trip.
Trip and fall.
Stop the search.
She doesn't want to be found.