I confess the Trans is dangerous. It leans provocation
On the teeth of the mind: an idea, to kill all other ideas? like Category,
Order, Line? Suppose the Problem of the Century still
be the Color Line since the Problem is, increasingly, the line?
I walk my far lyric to self. Was I gay or trans, when? Will
I Rickey or Key? The Danger be if Trans willingly tear up and confuse all
Surfaces, & neat embankments and leveéd cities sufficiently
keeping one hood from another, what else? If you Look
at me liking what you See— are you Gay? Fag? Distinctions Bi? What am I
going toward once a Boy-going-gay (never Man) coming forth to Lady,
(few deny) for Queer’s umbrella (gained) for Dreamed
Queen (all gained) to What else? Tho if I be Queer should Women who snarl
Love at me be lesbian, are Men who throw want at me straight? Carl,
I was gay my whole twenties & do I miss it but I miss the staying gay
after tongues kiss, that little Bottom Shame glossed in that name, Bottom.
Now Gay to Queer Miss to Dream to Trans*, all nice. Tho trans will suffice.

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Excerpted from Death of the First Idea by Rickey Laurentiis. Published September 2025 by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of The Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2025 by Rickey Laurentiis