Subsection from XYR

j/j hastain


a way to browse pause

prolific bearing        prolific states.

"what type of tree is your cross made out of?" xe asked.

xe responded to the question without an answer. began to speak plainly about what it might be like to collaboratively pursue rotating, orating roots, instead of obsessing over the previous states of the cross. when xe suggested this, xe initially felt hurt. then in xyr heart, a sudden intense swell of relief; as if having been granted a previously unforeseen permission to leave behind the splinters and splits that the cross had induced. it was as if it were suddenly possible to leave the gnawing sense that not until xyr womb was removed, would xe ever feel like xemself, behind as well. both of these reliefs, the unexpected opening of valves.


they smash inherited pronouns

in their palms while on the perimeter, they eat partials to keep seeing an androgynous body being fucked by extruding aspects. they see the body being pushed against acacia branches and told to soak in the light coming in from above.

aleatoric wrestling. supraposition.

to occupy and be occupied by torrent, as a way to birth a phenom-colossi; an our in what was ever previously an isolated my.


after rites of passage soak the lovers bodies in a tri-mix of tea bags

green, black and white. the transmigration from a my to an our. they speak with each other, prostrate to each other, one's hands clasped around the other's two.

begin with one wrapping the other. begin by inviting xem to blow all of xyr air out. wrap tightly, ravenously. show xem that it is erotic for you to be wrapping xem. to be keeping xem. "try not to breathe, it will be ok." then when half way through: "ok, breathe from just your nostrils." then all at once: "try to breathe with your whole body, now. right now." hold xem as the metal wire cuts in.

a wire nest teeters on a threshold between realms. realms wherein we interact with these reams of imaginary aspects. the imaginary aspects of our genders are not fictional or illusory, are more real than most parts of any previously determined reality.


following diagonals into demilune

subliminal entrails are a color not yet known by earth. once extracted, their increments can be stored in jars. xems became obsessed with mutualisms, with husking the hybrid vegetables that grew fiercely in xyr garden, with that certain acacia tree's achenes which had miniature feathers inside of them. something within them was changing because of them. because they were becoming a we by instigating one another as parts of each other's we.

a differently round thing, trembling. xems, they.

they decided that they would search for womb-like shapes exterior to their physical forms, so that they could experiment with collaborative discovery of different ways to consider the wombs in their bodies. xems were trying to find out if leaving their wombs in their bodies would allow those wombs to later haunt them. or if, their wombs, thought of by them differently, might be the very thing to ensure that in the future, haunts stay out.

deepening xems grafts. respectfully burying their drafts.