Monday, October 26, 2020


Werebird* c. 2020 by Saintorr

*part man, part avian


Don’t call me by any human names

I’m a werebird; half man, half sparrow,

starling, dove, crow, haunted raven.

Feeding on the bliss of men

Dancing to their songs

Crying to the moon

for loves long gone

and the absence of human touch. 


Don’t call me 

by any human names,

I’m king of the sky

half man, half yellow-tailed hawk

Surveying my kingdom

from air currents on high

Master of space,

destroyer of fear, hesitation,

procrastination and stasis

For the air up here

Feels like sea foam.

Always rushing, floating, 

soothing, stroking,

like a hand-of-wind massage

on my body, my temple

Come play with me.


I’m the werebird

half man, half dolphin

half white ape, half witch.

Come talk to me

We’ll read tarot cards, 

tea leaves, yarrow stocks,

throw the iChing, 

for these are the quiet moments

to treasure, words piping in harmony

like lover’s calls and bird songs.


For I alone

can love you

I’ll weave s spell

To transform us from vultures

to eagles, canaries,

petulant parrots

older than a thousand years

Careful! I can bite through my cage

and snap off your finger tip

like a stale crust of bread.

Life has done this to me

clipped my wings,

crushed my beak,

locked me in a warehouse

with other slave birds


Of these rusted shackles

stroke me, entice me.


I’m a werebird,

part man, part angel

part bobby-soxer,

part arresting officer,

with velvet handcuffs,

woven of feathers and fluff,

Part fat, drunken, drag queen 

on a tiny stage, mouthing bitchy obscenities

to a deliriously restless, raucous

crowd of queens.

At night I peck at and follow

the trail of birdseed leading home

to my tiny wren house.


I am a werebird

you cannot love me

as good as the trees and sky do,

As good as brother moon, father sun,

I’m always soaring

far flung from the confined clowns,

in their chicken coop crumbs, and 

failed ruins of dreams.


I’m a werebird,

a ghost, a woman-man thing

walking the streets,

coasting on wind-sheers.

Don’t call me by human names, 

feed me your bliss, let me dance

to your sound of tears,

drumming of dawns,

I wear my wild gown with pride,

the corset and straight jacket

are too tight, my master has 

shredded them off me and tamed me,

whispering his love

as I hold him

in my muscle-feathered arms

whispering his name. 


Werebird, werebird come to me

Werebird, werebird, set me free

Ocean limbs and seeking skies

Stare through these

unblinking eyes.

Sunday, October 18, 2020

More Ages of Love by St.Orr (10-18-20)

 Age 66 Make them all pay! They are all to be held responsible for my failures!

Age 67 I kiss the sun and discover devotion following that drunken butterfly floating on the updrafts                     toward heaven.

Age 21 Trying to make man love into art, sketches of athletes wearing headbands on lithographs.

Age 20 Fearlessly telling Cookie I liked him. His expression changed completely. He left in a hurry.

Age 19  Lost innocence telegraphed into my teen age head by a lonely professor from California. Thank God I didn't go there. 

Age 18  Fake ID's pretending to be str8t, drinking to feel free

Age 1 An almost newborn babe, at one with the universe. Damn it's cold out here!

Age 2  Love is sucking my Mother's breast and being carried in the rain by my Daddy.

Age 3 Peonies and gardens, cinnamon rolls and dolls.

Age 4 Don't look now but I am a girl!

Age 5 Damn I'm not! Innocence damage begins.

Age 6 Every day her spiders bite at me like her spiked pubic hair

Age 7 There's a place for us

Age 8 All I want is to ride on George Campuses' muscular tanned body in the aqua swimming pool                      forever, take me away!

Age 9 Building Model monsters is cool; and I was sniffing glue all the while.

Age 10 Rat Fink is the best; rage of destruction

Age 11 I wanna be a bookworm girl, a nerd.

Age 12 Bullies are hell.

Age 13 I sometimes like to run away and become Sally Field in "Gidget."

Age 11 Loving screaming myself into a femmy faint at horror movies.

Age 13 (again) Fear, loathing, loving and craving to touch wiry boy's six-packs.

Age 16 Acid trips open the universe, amphetamine drama queen.  

Age 17 The loss of innocence scars my face even more, the scabs won't stay put. Goodbye smooth skin, I'll do anything to make my hair str8t! Anything to fit in. This seems contrary to smoking pot. But music sounds so much longer stoned.

Age 18 Boy longing lust. Playing with a Malamute in the snow is more fun than having boy lust!



Gifting to Myself 10-18-20

Gifting Myself by St.Orr


I'm gifting myself

the feathers of angels

feeling like gold dust

running through my hand

crumbling like sheets of gold leaf

now, in these amber days

Sweet autumn umber days


And during this 

neo-Pleistocene period

of Pandemic quiet--

I'm gifting myself

a magic Etch-a-Sketch

that draws every wrinkle, smile,

living sperm and dead cell

I sloughed off and rubbed onto

every boy I ever had,

every man I ever gave myself to freely

every animal I ever charged.


I'm gifting myself

a universal Aviator's License

so I can legally float straight up

beyond this matchstick tenement

beyond yellow towers-blocking-sun

Floating away with a Hawk's eye view

Bidding farewell

to the tiny speck below

And there I lived,

in a man-cave I outgrew.


And there I was,

a prisoner of strange men's texts

and phone calls. Sometimes I wore scruffy shorts,

a housework scarf on my head;

dancing with myself high up

on a Rapunzel-like roof,

and there a black hole like a dirty shadow

showed where the deck used to be.

There, my history was tangled in a money hungry daze later transmuting my energy

into a a lusting thirst for light.


Yes, I longed for the golden-brown

hair of boys who in passing,

ignored me.

Now, I can safely turn my eyes away,

the drama’s lost in the anticipation

of warm lava flows of chill-pill moments

moments in the sun;

catchin' rays, releasing rigidity,

mining my body's bald beauty

Nosferatu would be proud.


I'm gifting myself

brown age spots stuck like diamonds

in lazy, dreaming Autumn eyes.



I gift myself

brown age spots

stuck like diamonds

from my lazy, dreaming Autumn eyes



Call the leather leopard doctor

For this naked gerbil

has lost his drive, 

and succumbed to

slow-motion, chill-pill

fly-right feelings

crawling up brown weeds

buzzing with mute laughter

Come queen!

You roof nigger with your air orgies,

your extinct animals, dinosaurs and dancing dream monsters

that do not subvert, they inspire in spite of.

Ages of Love 1


66 Trying viagra it was like a ticker-tape parade down Fifth Avenue that never happened.

9 Playing with guinea pigs whose fur felt like undulating rivers of butter and milk.

5 My Mother fed me spiders that burrowed in my gut and fed on me for years.

13 Unleashing the hungry ghost longing for wiry boy's six-packs, secretly screwing myself with  tubes, lost in fantasies of pepper-cum, burning holes in bodybuilder's thongs obsessed with what was hidden underneath.

14 Taping my innocence to a 33 inch turntable like a guinea pig wounding myself with darts of hate.

67 Loving the injections that gift me a pain-free shoulder visible through turquoise silk, flowing over the rapturous sepulcher of my body as another facet of divine me enters stage left, stops and stares at the twittering audience. Cross, DS, stands until it's quiet. House lights on to reveal nothing but sparrows seeking open windows.

68 Growing like a fine, strong, ancient tree, into a muscled, wooden Indian carved from cedar, this self of me, this pillar of strength and marshmallow, chocolate and bacon boy-man flesh. Proud, stitched together by clinging vines of poison ivy and lilac shade, covered in worn shells of carousel horses lying on sun-bleached shores, while cruising dragonflies passing remind me of magic that is. As I breathe, just breathe in absolute love.



"To the Bone" 10-28-20 St.Orr

I think it's in the garden

I think it's in the wind

Say you love me anyway

when I state my sin


I think there's something coming

Maybe a new world

Gonna tie my hair up

Feel my inner gurl


She'll say you take it easy boy

Don't beside yourself

Some days you gotta stack

the plates all pretty on the shelf


No harm in being whorey,

no harm in gettin' high

No harmin you my baby

When your chill pill is the sky


time to ditch the phone

Aim the stone,

shoot down that drone


dream a dream of home

feel your love deep to the bone


dream a dream of home

Fill your love deep to bone







Piece of a song (in process) "Let It Go" 10-18-20

There you go again 

Talkin' 'bout chemtrails 

Policitcal Conspiracies

And all that insanity entails

ohhh Let it Go


Are you a savior sent to me

to set my heart on fire?

Or a lost misguided spirit

Form of energy vampire


aaahh Let it Go

Let it Go!

Friday, October 16, 2020

As I Stand 10-16-20


As I Stand 10-16-20

As I stand on this shore

looking out into forever

Can you hear me shout?

"I ADORE YOU come to me now."


I hear you, I'm coming, be there soon-

Just a few things I need to do,

Chores, like cleaning up after the cat,

picking dirt and dreams

off the kitchen floor,

Walking up the stairs to the roof

Looking for the hawk

flying in his majesty on the upper reaches

of air currents only he can feel.


I'm coming, in just a bit-

First I need to be showing up for my job (Oh God.)

Dancing in the rain on my crooked roof

Finally, I'll be sending you my heart

via astral projection

There I've caught it,

holding it now

like a stunning thing

vibrating with the innocence and soul of a child

shooting light

like a cotillion of moon beams


I love you for your dancing dreams

This is the stuff wars are fought over

Kingdoms rise and fall

meanwhile this jewel your heart

I hold to my cheek

until I can kiss you


Don't worry about the universe

just meet me around 5

by the sea wall

I need to look into your eyes,

feel the movement of your breath

echoing in the sounds of these waves

in and out

indestructible moments

there is no love, only us and eternity


Go ahead, shake our your hair

let me shimmy and quake for you

They'll think we're nuts

but who cares, they're dead

and we're alive.

Do your sexy walk

I'll make you forget

paying bills,

flies with Twitter accounts

Meowing gurlz on phones

The endless bumping

of the big, heavy-treading lady upstairs

my living, in this crappy matchbox of a man cave

(My kingdom, my home).

I'll fly with you

over rainbows

beyond the grey sheets

of discarded lovers

lying on shipwrecked shores

like so many skeletal hulls

on beaches filled

with pieces of hypodermic needles

bone fragments of Mafia bets gone bad

Call me angel

call me by my name.