#transgenderliterature

[queerbooklife-blog]

💙🧡💚❤️💛💜 A super sweet book about a transgender kiddo, a true-blue friendship, and the theater! A heartwarming read for elementary school and up. #george #alexgino #transkids #transgenderkids #transliterature #transgenderliterature #transbooks #transgenderbooks #transgenderbooksforchildren #childrensbooks #kidbooks #bookstagram #lgbtqlit #lgbtlit #lgbtqbooks #lgbtbooks #lgbtkidsbooks #lgbtkids #trans #transgender #charlottesweb #schoolplay #lgbtliterature #lgbtqliterature https://www.instagram.com/p/BtBUnwMgvU9/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=md9nj1oiiufz

[euleax]

To my breasts, a poetic microtale

By Euleax de Lima Pereira                                                                                    Translated from Portuguese by Euleax de Lima Pereira

These spheric friends suddenly appeared to me! I invited them since ages ago! When I realized, they were over there! They follow me In my journey of greater corporal intelligibility and euphoria, In spite of me not seeing them, Under some mystic of The Sacred Feminine

No! No! In no way! I’m agender and my spheric friends in no way express such things! They’re just thought this way by the Hegemony! Not by me!

The joy, the jubilation, the everyday extasis Of them being my beloved constitutive corporal parts, Are on them, my friendly breasts, Just being breasts, And, in just being breasts, In no way, being simple breasts, of some superficiality

Yep! They’re trivial indeed, but like trivial abysses, In which my new corporeal subjectivity Which I am constituing Goes unfolding itself It’s an atavic triviality And bucolic, but always smooth, profane And intense, but never cliché, And not ceasing to be sacred.

The breeze, the water drop which goes, It’s of a sliding dew over their surface, While I lay myself Over the grass And, on one side, under the light of the morning sun, On another side, under the penumbra of a leafy jackfruit tree.

I talk, over the grass, during long hours with them, Which is talking with myself, Who unfold myself into them! I talk with them, Not necessairly staring at them! I talk, over the grass, Sometimes, while, opening the eyes, I pray for The Existence, Without staring at them and just by the tactile sensation Of my breasts being caressed By the mist wich the lagoon blows, In this morning of the dawn of my new, More trustworthy, body.