The heat breaks the same day Katie finally comes. To her it still is a monster, the beaked salt runs of humidity hang from her chin, pool in the crevices and spaces around our necks and eyes–she calls it Maryland heat and I make no mention how odd to me it is that nearby as…
Tag: On the road
prayer, earth day
Cmm’onnn shut the fug up haaa hhaa sweet, sweet lord you’re kidding me honey honestly I get on here just to write somehow it starts out to you, again Cat bc this damn music you bring whaaaat?! and am laughing as I write this right now only for the tinge of tears in the center…
Every light on in the city.
Rooster calls right as we are hanging up I call him right back, it has been a year I am thinking since we spoke even as he’s shout scratchthroat talking at me and I am laughy in my body before we even get full conversation out, it has been even longer since me and him…
I come to the cabin
I come to the cabin that Catfish admitted he’d been sneaking off to all of Covid. The first time I come here it is to see him. We meet in the parking lot and by midwalk towards the other are hugging in heartbody steps before our actual bodies connect. It is near the anniversary of…
hunger do you heed
In August the sounds of locusts are primroses or psychopomp, which do you dare~ In August I dream of the bay, cotton candy mute of clouds into shelf-wells of water walls gather and collecting the dream of themselves above or ahead, the just out of reach sky. If that is thunder, it cracks open the…
Since the time of the desk
The last time I went on vacation I drove 45 minutes up the coast highway and landed in a cheap boarding house I’d booked the night before on a 3rd party finder. Room cheap like the plastic blinds had runners missing in halves and a busted fridge that smelt like hot breath cheap, and a…
To Rest & Poetry, on the Winter Solstice
In Oregon the Breitenbush river is a color of steel-teal that exists no other place on the earth and this must be partly because of the non-negotiable trees. It is easy to be grounded and feel at one in your place in a place like this. It is easy to revere the miracle of dirt:…
Myths and your story. Following your Bliss.
Seven years ago in 2010 before California, before north cubby holes and south green rooms and southwest desert sandstorms, I would stand on the deck waiting tables at the Yacht Club in Ocean Pines, wind blowing (like a million different Pusser’s winds, Naptown holllaaa wudup Chessie and back then) and it blew warm and westerly like Hawaii,…
It happened every place we ever lived. I hated cleaning.
This little hobbit house. I can count on one finger the amount of times I have cleaned it, like scrub cleaned the way I was taught when I was a girl. When I was clean, like sober clean, almost two years, I had moved into my first place just for me, no roommates. It was…
If you’re lucky, it slows your flow. On Grace.
The thing you don’t know til you live here is the way palm tree leaves look when they bend in the wind. The Santa Ana’s. They’re real. They come sailing down the canyon with whole lists of lusty springtime wants. You hear them ranting and can barely breathe. High white-sun days of Santa Ana wind…
Wild Women Wisdom 