ion • butch editor
LightNews LightNews
banner
ionpoe.bsky.social
ion • butch editor
@ionpoe.bsky.social
140 followers 42 following 920 posts
18 - transmasc butch lesbian - poet and writer
hire me to edit your writing! $0.01-0.03USD or less per word dm for inquiry!
he/they
https://linktr.ee/leftpastmars
Posts Replies Media Videos
ionpoe.bsky.social
survivor’s guilt or whatever the hell this poem was about. written to every trans woman of the past
May 22, 2025 at 4:07 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
oh
RAADS-R test results with a total score of 162
May 18, 2025 at 9:20 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
lesbian killing myself tonight (sckl25)
a drawn image of someone gripping another person’s shoulder so hard that they are bleeding. they look particularly agonised
May 18, 2025 at 1:17 AM
ionpoe.bsky.social
banana bread #snackscult
photo of banana bread with chocolate chips that has a slice missing
May 15, 2025 at 1:12 AM
ionpoe.bsky.social
bearded vultures lock talons and fall together btw. if you even care
two bearded vultures with interlocked talons spinning against a mountainous background
May 14, 2025 at 2:23 AM
ionpoe.bsky.social
Somewhere, there are people with bodies Like ours, voices like ours, that remember how to taste joy between their teeth And drink the sun of its warmth with their laughter And press sweet tongues, warm mouths, to skin cradled by the sand and rocked by the sea
May 4, 2025 at 3:27 AM
ionpoe.bsky.social
she’s just like me fr
a plush purple stegosaurus that is adorably rounded
May 2, 2025 at 3:59 AM
ionpoe.bsky.social
this was an assignment but you can have it too. as a treat.
tw for themes of parental death and abusive childhood
My Father’s Autopsy Godzilla died with a satisfied sigh. There was no other sound in the hospital room until the heart rate monitor caught up to the flatline. I could only hear the absence of air—stagnant, sucked of oxygen—and the alarm in the voices of the nurses. It was something with his heart, they said. Those years of devouring sacrificed girls off the coast of Odo Island were hard on him, they said. I would not know. He had not fathered me by then. My birth—my detonation—had brought him out of the ocean, into the city. “Little bomb,” he had called me. “You take after your father.” I was afraid of how my skin had grown thick and resembled his mottled scales. There was something decaying in my ribs that I remember on his breath. It was wrong that something so infantesimal as an organ would end his larger-than-life It was he who had taught me to stand tall, to my full height, and ignore the screams of fear. It was he who put my unripe, newborn feet in the city centre and showed me what it meant to be a monster. He had taught me how to scream, his little bomb, and he told me that my wails could change the world. He was the violent god of my childhood, and now he is dead. I sit at his bedside and I wonder what it means for the world, now that all that’s left is his ruins, and his bomb.
April 18, 2025 at 6:37 AM
ionpoe.bsky.social
awh yeah I remember this one
a cave painting of the outline of a bull in black over smaller bulls in red. it’s a photo of the Hall of Bulls, Lascaux
April 15, 2025 at 7:59 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
she’s so gorgeous hi beautiful. what a model
a turkey vulture in profile. It has a red head and a white hooked beak, with a black feathered neck. the photo cuts off the rest of the vulture
April 2, 2025 at 4:46 AM
ionpoe.bsky.social
pomegranate (audience cheers)
a coloured pencil sketch of a half of a pomegranate, open side facing the viewer
March 24, 2025 at 3:59 AM
ionpoe.bsky.social
I miss her
a photo of Venus of Brassempouy held up to the camera. It is a piece of ivory carved into an abstracted woman’s face, neck, and hair. She is about 4cm tall and 1cm wide
March 19, 2025 at 11:46 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
brief ekphrastic poem on “When Harlem Was” by Eric Bowman #poem #poetry #writersky
a painting that has a purple-grey background with vague audience members behind a jazz band. the band is to the left of the painting, and painted in blacks and browns. the singer, a woman in a white dress holding a microphone, is off to the right of the painting They had never been In love, but most nights, they Wished they could be. When their sounds unfurled Into the ecstasy of music, of Jazz, of Love the couples dancing In the crowd Felt pull their hearts together, They closed their eyes And longed with her voice, and his strings, For a day the stage was not theirs, For a time they did not hold the roof over their heads in her throat, and his hands, And a world where shapes identical could dance, Melded, soft, to nothing But the music of Harlem’s streets.
March 5, 2025 at 10:04 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
holy shit I do not remember writing this
Burn me alive like they did Jeanne d’Arc Make the humiliation of womanhood my last
February 23, 2025 at 7:03 AM
ionpoe.bsky.social
an experiment of amalgamation. #poem #poetry #poems #poet #poets #writersky
February 8, 2025 at 1:48 AM
ionpoe.bsky.social
excavated the archives for this one. it’s not my best work but I’m saving those for debut in my book #poem #poetry #writersky #poet #poets
February 6, 2025 at 5:39 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
A Pearl, a meditation on dysphoria (though I didn’t know it was such at the time) #poem #poetry #writersky #trans #transgender #transitioning #butch #transpoetry
February 5, 2025 at 5:23 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
desperately old poem but I think it’ll be a hit with the masses #poetry #poem #prosepoem #writersky #queer #queerpoetry
February 5, 2025 at 4:29 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
perhaps this is better or worse than it used to be. I miss its feeling. I think it could be a sweetmetal, maybe. #poem #poetry #writer #writersky #trans #transgender #transitioning #butch #poet #poets
February 5, 2025 at 2:40 AM
ionpoe.bsky.social
lovely description from my first draft that didn't make it to the second. it's not my fave piece of writing but oh lord I love describing femmes. yes she's smoking a clove cigarette #butch #femme #butchfemme #excerpt
February 4, 2025 at 8:09 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
do we still fuck with butch femme arsonists (censored their names for fun) #butch #femme #butchfemme #lesbian #lesbians #shortstory #writersky
February 4, 2025 at 7:36 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
trying to write a poem to trans women throughout history and this is literally all I can think of to say #poetry #draft #poem #trans #transgender #transhistory
To all the women I have outlived. You deserved a better legacy than us.
February 4, 2025 at 5:58 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
the trap is the only one that fulfilled its platonic form, if you really think about it #poem #poetry #writersky #writing
One Must Imagine the Fox In Love With The Trap The fox ensnared did not miss the glinting of the trap's metal teeth or the rusted ring on the forest floor or the spring, that dreadful, gentle, tragic spring, coiled beneath its step. It watched this trap for days, perhaps weeks, perhaps not long enough. its rusted teeth became a beautiful sight the spring, that lovely spring, a thing the fox could free it from. So when the fox stepped into that circle of teeth And metal Do not say it did not know what would come next But perhaps, it did not know how much it would hurt.
February 4, 2025 at 5:51 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
favourite panels from a zine I made. “God left my soul unfinished in my body not as an act of kindness.” “I would be better another, in the crucible of another God.”
February 4, 2025 at 4:47 PM
ionpoe.bsky.social
#poems #poetry
I am still the same as That boy in 200 BCE, staring up at the stars And seeing his own face And longing for the sea on his skin And thinking that Venus was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. I would hold his face in my hands and kiss him on the mouth and tell him that it is allowed to mean nothing I would put his feet in the river and tell him that he is allowed to want, to not want I would bring him to the Sleeping Hermaphrodite and put his hand on its skin and watch him learn the meaning of home
February 4, 2025 at 1:16 AM