Episode 01: Axel B. Kolcow and Abby Rose

There is an unmatched energy at poetry readings and open mics that other spaces can’t capture. The vigor spoken through the mic as the crowd snaps and cheers, “let’s go, poet!” Whether it’s a friend or a stranger at the forefront, giving the audience a glimpse of the world through their eyes, their words resonate with everyone in the room. 

But what inspires poets to write? What are the driving forces that put thoughts and vulnerability to the page? 

The Buffalo Hive is excited to share our new series where we explore these questions and feature poets who are passionate about their craft . “Our City Speaks: Buffalo Poets Connect” centers poets having thoughtful, candid, unfiltered conversations with each other. 

To kick off the series, we’re featuring Axel B. Kolcow and Abby Rose. Listen as they speak about queer joy, political frustrations, and what inspires them to write and perform. 

We also asked them to share each other’s favorite poem. Check them out below! 

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By Axel B. Kolcow

Love From Dad

I wish
I was a kangaroo rocketship
& could stow every trans kid in my rocketship pouch
& we’d blast off to wish on every star

maybe there isn’t one safe place

I am not a rocketship or a kangaroo
I am a faggy freak w/loose bricks
I am a furious, burning star

blast off!

what I want every trans kid to know:

you are a furious, burning star

you are a lullaby and a marching band

I am an acorn and an oak tree
you are maple syrup, fall foliage, the whole stack of pancakes
and the maple tree, too

my darlings
my saplings

***

This poem was originally published as two poems in The Lickety~Split in September
2022

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By Abigayle Rose

Shame is the landlord of my body

But the rent keeps increasing
I am being sold my own body at a profit and
I am getting priced out

Pleasure?
I barely even know her
That’s beyond my budget
I can barely afford to just live here

Shame tells me it will get around to fixing the maintenance issues
… Eventually
The cracks in the walls,
The stains on the ceiling
The drip I need to put a bucket under each time it rains
Shame paints over the cracks in landlord white
And pretends that fixes the problem

Perhaps I am not the best tenant
I do not protect the floors
From scuffs and scrapes
I do not treat this house like it is my own
Like it has value
The way I know I should
But I am trying
I am trying,
God I am trying

I have spent so long paying rent
That I have forgotten my name is on the lease

This home is not perfect
The wiring is weird
There will always be an ache in the back stairwell
And bats in the chimney
But this is my home

I will stop caring about my deposit
And paint the walls cerulean
I will start inviting people to my home again

I am the one who gives the tour
Shows you around and says
Look at this home I have made where I live
Isn’t it delightful?
I am the one who decides
If I am ready to show you
The compulsions I threw in the closet
To clean up before you came
Or the basement which is dark and scary and best avoided

It is my job to be a good host
But I am the one who gets to decide
If houseguests are allowed to return
To demand good manners
And kindness
And Laughter

It is time to stop pretending the landlord
Will fix things
And do my own maintenance
Winterize my own windows and fix my own foundation

I am becoming an electrician
Rewiring myself
So I don’t short-circuit as much
Maybe someday I will come to peace with the way my circuit breaks
Someday I will give myself grace for becoming so ungrounded

I will remove the salt from the window ledges
And the crucifixes from each room
I will hold a seance of my own survival
And invite back the ghosts
Of every version of me I have ever been
Say, excuse the expulsion before
But I wasn’t ready to meet you yet
Take tea in the parlor
Listen to what they each have to teach me
And then let them pass on

I will unpack the boxes I have kept
From my last move, just in case
This is my body
I am not a temporary tenant
But the one who owns the deed
And I refuse to let shame evict me anymore