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chromatographics
@chromato.graphics
66 followers 26 following 40 posts
gay poems by @mbbischoff.com
more online @ chromato.graphics
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chromato.graphics
hinge door in our place i never open out of fear and too much want touch the knob — i am shocked sounds like a party in there but where is my invitation? missing out doesn’t scare me sometimes, it’s open a crack scents from the kitchen waft my favorite dish on the menu i give up. nothing better to do splayed on gray wool, rubbing nothing matches their rhythm the guests tire, it swings open streamers and confetti spilling must be my job to clean ’em up
September 16, 2026 at 1:38 AM
Reposted by chromatographics
mbbischoff.com
one of my poems will be published in the new Alchemize anthology.

pre-order a copy and come listen to incredible trans poets read at the launch event on 8/21 at dear friends in brooklyn.

tinycutlery.com/shop/p/alche...
Alchemize: a trans poetry anthology. release party & reading. readings by Persephone Matlazihua, Magdi Hazaa, Evelyn Thurman, venus knowles, jonah wu, and rafaela lassauza. an anthology featuring 25+ trans poets. curated by AJ DiBetta. designed and printed by Tiny Cutlery. $10 per copy. august 21st, 2026 at 7pm. dear friend books, brooklyn, ny.
August 8, 2026 at 7:07 PM
chromato.graphics
photobooth shoes stick to the floor, we wander past the bar into a dim red-lit lounge. pinball, locked door, you. you’re a seeing machine. pull your curtain closed— shroud us in secrets that end just above our waist. tap on a train faregate, a beep reminds us that transportation isn’t free, a short trip still costs us. you’re a seeing machine. see what we’re made of. we’re trapped here now, we can’t hide from flash. all whirring and waiting.
don’t know how long ‘til our capture, our release. we kiss from impatience. you’re a seeing machine. our mouths are blurring, hands in hair, bite marks in flesh. we have no time. falling back into the light. was there music before? we lean against the box, we cannot lose contact. you’re a seeing machine. you take time to develop. wait here: a strip will fall. freeze us in four frames.

June 30, 2026 at 4:43 AM
chromato.graphics
no do i have to belt you? to overcome a bubbling or are my words enough to staunch the flowing from leaking fountains pleasure is never free, even when it is a gift. beg me with honeysuckle pollination. allergies. only believe in denial. muscle tension, hunger. dew’s wetter than rain. desperate questions tie barricade tape tighter. no. a complete sentence the longer we wait here clock hands move slowly waiting, praying on the dripping limestone tile a sacrifice in purpose. release is for the weak but you are strong, no? every drop metered out. are you grasping at it? there isn’t a shortage. don’t ask me again, now you know my answer love age years in the bottle our flavor concentrates only believe in denial.
June 4, 2026 at 7:16 PM
chromato.graphics
if you have wanted
to hear my poems,
today is the day ⤵
mbbischoff.com mb ◡̈ @mbbischoff.com · May 29
☀️ good morning new york!

📖 if you’re free tonight, i’d love for you to come to Alchemize at dear friends books in bed-stuy.

🌈 i’ll be reading more of my gay poems than i ever have in one place. www.dearfriendbooks.com
Alchemize a trans poetry night Birch Wiley Ren Ryun Chang Ella Konrad koa s. wallace c. melín lara mb bischoff May 28, 2026 at 7 pm dear friends books brooklyn, ny
May 29, 2026 at 3:18 PM
chromato.graphics
dial two-tone composition unknown destinations an operator obsesses over pickup & hangup one +1 more connected than 2. you will. and the company that will bring it to you is me push digits into holes, keep spinning until you feel the click in place switch arms, hands tire blinking countless lines, voice carrying fast & far on continuous copper wire silence costs us as much— draw X’s & O’s in octothorps sleep clutching our handsets there is so much to exchange during long-distance calling
April 4, 2026 at 6:57 PM
chromato.graphics
entrapped by Chroma meeting a Goddess, sunshine, envying its divinity & wings stripping each white feather, dyeing them all in her blood sewing souls into mine, stealing her golden halo it will never fly again— riding only in my hand my fallen angel: a bruised flower
March 20, 2026 at 11:12 PM
chromato.graphics
violet your aperture narrows as f /our voices deepen sunlight burns through exposed cloth shutters we made you to protect an us we never realized would be safe as she is it’s no decorative pansy darkrooms reveal stains & splatters under safety lightbulb, glowing ruby our eyes don’t adjust yet we have twins, don’t we? is it sisters, not twins? god, no that’s a different flower entirely — rosemary
March 11, 2026 at 8:27 PM
Reposted by chromatographics
cara.city
New Session Issue 4: Upheaval

now live on telnet: issue4.anewsession.com

featuring work by:

@asterolsen.bsky.social
@mbbischoff.com
@ultraviolet.gay
@jana-aych-ess.bsky.social
...and more!

web release coming on Saturday so STAY TUNED!
Screen showing a telnet service on an old green monitor connecting to new session issue 4 And showing the logo (Upheaval)
February 6, 2026 at 1:47 AM
Reposted by chromatographics
mbbischoff.com
two of my poems: bonfire & poison,
read at Poetry is Gay Winter Recital

thanks to Brooke for hosting it and
@paxwords.bsky.social for filming

more poetry ☞ @chromato.graphics
January 28, 2026 at 10:05 PM
Reposted by chromatographics
mbbischoff.com
♥️ two poems from @chromato.graphics i read last night at World Transsexual Forum.

📹 video by @paxwords.bsky.social
January 27, 2026 at 7:24 PM
chromato.graphics
food a girl’s gotta eat, grow big & strong food becomes fuel fired brick oven i have reservations, my seat’s set aside gin martini stirred— small coin of lemon white pressed linens red leather cushions polished steel fixtures scarred marble veins amuse my palate gift from the chef we kindly request: no sharing allowed a girl’s gotta eat, wash away fears enjoy my choices wet lips, appetite taste first with eyes each flavor distinct: salt, grit, acid, burn hungering for it all the first bite builds anticipation of more— a mindless chewing, my posture softens i lick your plate clean it’s been taken care of have i saved any room? no, some other time
December 23, 2025 at 9:16 PM
chromato.graphics
atlantic pacific i often wake three hours before your sunrise calls for a response logbook already soaked with ink we laugh, but even if we could, why constrain our outpourings? one winter day you ask for notes on undersea strings aware of both the timbre and tempo of these songs we start singing together i fall into an evening rhythm talking and yes moaning into the phonograph, my head then swallowed by the brassy cone our voices sound better inside when you open your ears again there’s so much weather to hear : wind and rain and quiet calm that lasts too long and means too much we keep sailing even without a map true, land divides us more than sea, but these two coasts call to us both maybe it’s the sirens or the sounds of wavecrash against the shore — the dangers of unfathomed depths
December 22, 2025 at 11:29 PM
Reposted by chromatographics
mbbischoff.com
honored that one of my poems appears in the new Dykes & Dolls.

pickup a copy in nyc tomorrow or check it out online.

open.substack.com/pub/dykesand...
atlantic pacific i often wake three hours before your sunrise calls for a response logbook already soaked with ink we laugh, but even if we could, why constrain our outporings? one winter day you ask for notes on undersea strings aware of both the timbre and tempo of these songs we start signing together i fall into an evening rhythm talking and yes moaning into the phonograph, my head then swallowed by the brassy cone our voices sound better inside when you open your ears again there’s so much weather to hear : wind and rain and quiet calm that lasts too long and means too much we keep sailing even without a map true, land divides us more than sea, but these two coasts call to us both maybe it’s the sirens or the sounds of wavecrash against the shore — the dangers of unfathomed depths
December 14, 2025 at 9:43 PM
Reposted by chromatographics
chromato.graphics
bioavailable there’s always a question when i come into contact with the substance of you. how much of you can i absorb? when you enter my bloodstream, swim my veins where they lead. the longer your half-life, the more i’ll feel you there, coursing through my core. the closer your shape gets to nature, the better i can fully take you in. drink you or swallow you or let you dissolve under my tongue every day as you transform me with area under your curves. when is my next dose?
August 3, 2025 at 5:03 PM
chromato.graphics
use craving total transformation, identity a disposed wrapper. becoming a vessel for want, glass poured into, overfilled. you haven’t been here lately. something in our combining always begins this reaction: photochemical excited state learning how to spark again— days ago: gel, pumps, bulbs, rattling pill bottles and nerves, black gloves, gold foil, silicone. it’s warmed up enough already. don’t ask or guess—just know. take a part you claim as yours, shape it to your pleasure. use. time stutters; the gears grind forward under prying pressure. repairing hidden mechanisms, counting every beat yourself. disappearing deconstruction: ripped apart by heat and light, shredded into a thousand tiny pieces of steel. shrapnel blast. there is stillness in oblivion, peace made in the darkness. clenched fists, soaked linen. i swear. i won’t move. i can’t.
November 22, 2025 at 3:34 PM
chromato.graphics
AS 21 if you’re hearing this, it’s ‘cause i trust you. there’s a lot of detail, high resolution scans. i take an early flight. nothing good is easy. what am i forgetting? chocolate orange peels. i program on the airplane to distract from humming in my eardrums; an engine whirring to life in my chest. she applies the night before risks her body just for more. she knows she has to see it before i remember my face. jetway’s made of glass, eyes have steel blades. what am i forgetting? 54-inch red shoelace. “do you want to get the fuck out of this airport?” she picks up both bags before i can say a word. she borrows a tapedeck. i hold her knee. is this ok? the postal service can’t ship this in a flat rate box. distance desires ritual we find a matchbook what am i forgetting? ashen coffee. burning. the next thing i know we’re at the terminal. lipstick can stain more than cardboard cups time stopped in total: 14 hours, 28 minutes
November 16, 2025 at 3:23 AM
chromato.graphics
triumph you outfit us in leather armor tie boots tight as heartstrings we dance and breathe as one enter prisms — offset blinking INFORMATION GLADLY GIVEN BUT SAFETY REQUIRES AVOIDING UNNECESSARY CONVERSATION underground, understand a halo grip my thighs below your wings breathe — you ask “you ready?” to leave, to ride, to fly. of course. don’t look down & don’t let go become part of a red machine: a bell, a backpack, a balance gripping tightly, holding loosely i am not afraid to ride with you to glide across rock and sound my pilot is divine, invincible even molded contours promise safety PLEASE HOLD ON SUDDEN STOPS ARE SOMETIMES NECESSARY as we swerve, we synchronize we’re on an island, smiling wide small compared to a lighthouse even smaller against your frame my sister thought she could fall along the same route we travel but i know i fell for you already ache is just what flight feels like
November 5, 2025 at 8:47 PM
chromato.graphics
wrist i clocked the watch once and wished its red hand swept across your face i knew i’d want the date i saw the toy’s hallmark that predates its maker cupid’s bow pointillism it looked best in color i slipped on a staircase tripped on slippery oak fell into a concrete pool cut and bruised joints you caught me there held me—rubbed salt into my fresh wounds to heal and to hurt me a thin black strap is all that holds back the sun when this camera falls it’ll leak light forever three solid bands form an unbroken bracelet brass never gleamed until becoming a label holding mine down against white silk, gray wool, graffiti it’s easy to go deep
October 29, 2025 at 12:43 AM
chromato.graphics
bonfire we spin on turntables gift-wrapped bubbles plotting high treason one query hangs on a hook near my thigh “how do you want to feel?” you produce three words two supple, one sharp relaxed. caregiven. surrender. we better not have another handle’s cold to the touch i hold your hand for warmth fetching a towel and water unfamiliar closet and faucet you aren’t used to this, are you? inside these walls, a forest i lead you down the worn path to a fire blazing at the center it’s just us dancing there— adjust angles, rhyme rhythms dig holes with feet and fingers you haven’t visited in years moonlight in an empty room i’ve never been, but will again draw maps into memory twist silver, pink, and blue the way back is circular
October 7, 2025 at 6:42 PM
chromato.graphics
i’m sorry i bumped into you. i thought you were a mirror. your clear surface showed what they saw of me then. parties are meant for diffusion, but we focused instead. twisting the lens to almost make out what was there. i’m sorry i couldn’t touch you. i thought you were a mirror. i feared leaving greasy prints for everyone to see. museums of mailboxes and phones reveal past and future connections. a present— behind smudged display glass. i’m sorry you didn’t see me waving at you in the city. i thought you were a mirror. you weren’t yet waving back. being gay is hard sometimes. hotel bathrooms get steamy, you can’t always get the right angle before the image blurs. i’m sorry we were interrupted. i thought you were a mirror. i never dreamed anyone would walk through it and shatter the glass. i need to move but i can’t sleep. some things aren’t done yet. i’m hiding from sunrise, from men, under blankets and cardboard towers. i’m sorry i looked so long. i knew you were a mirror, but i couldn’t spot the vanishing point. some reflections distort; yours perfects.
September 25, 2025 at 8:05 PM
chromato.graphics
incision half decade wishes: a leveling out. forbidden kisses the right choice, no doubt central park consult king cole martini review old results discard bikinis photograph the curves archives in high gloss the things i preserve, they’ll surely just toss day before phone calls rage at the system its stops, starts, & stalls need to assist him sleep, holding a heart cleanse every surface wrong name on the chart of course you deserve this wave as the doors close don’t use the “b” word eat eggs as you doze the artwork looks blurred a husband’s phone rings let me inside there treat you like a king hold cups as your care bumpy ride that night late rooftop phone call two beams of bright light never forget fall a week goes by fast managing your pain see yourself at last straight scars and no drain i cry more than you do it hits me deeply this thing that you choose didn’t come cheaply a body transformed like overnight oats years since your plans formed i’ll keep taking notes
September 21, 2025 at 2:35 PM
chromato.graphics
readwrite have you ever had a girl cause engineering just for it, though weeks of design on a one-off built for the thing — to program it on the airplane commit to it: make it perfect, then install it when you get there, show it slowly touch a curved shape feel its edges unarchive it press it with force watch it open, animated every app must have its settings even if they never vary have you ever caused a toy to glow from within white light blinking when you read it you can see it: why it matters, what you’ll put there have you ever caused a thing to strip itself bare kernel panic! this will only take a second, last a lifetime deep within you type it all out hold it down now your domain, name hit the button have you ever felt an object as it’s written becoming yours
September 9, 2025 at 9:09 PM
chromato.graphics
poison black bottle kept just out of reach of those who fear my obsidian liquid a toxicology report: deadly in large doses but taken with care the hurting heals us sure, share a nightcap wince with me in pain we need this to sting no easier, knowing it small sips are sweet deeper drinks, bitter stone fruit can’t mask a burning this intense scared to let you see me like this — red eyes pierce pewter framing you want, no, need to as the spirit fully hits there’s no stopping this drink. the cork is broken now
August 26, 2025 at 2:19 PM