My folks are out of town and as I live on their property amongst the giant pecan trees, I offered to help out with the kitties and the garden. They are off to cruise from Iceland to Norway over the edge of the Arctic Circle and their days and nights probably aren’t getting warmer thanContinue reading “Melting Dripping Summer”
Tag Archives: stone
Constellation, a reading
Two Spirits
About five years ago I was sitting on the balcony outside my little garage apartment. I lived with my Leather family, and my little suite above the garage was my solitude, my sanctuary. I wasn’t sober then, I hadn’t found the strength yet. Having the drinks that always sat at my side, I was perchedContinue reading “Two Spirits”
For Pack
Last weekend was the second time our woodshop has vended at a big event, and absolutely exactly what was needed. Not for the money made, which was less than I anticipated, but for being surrounded by people I call home. Being a solo person by choice makes every human interaction quite interesting, and with anContinue reading “For Pack”
Stepping in the footprints of giants
Yesterday I grabbed one of my favorite humans and took us to a sacred place. Not far from here is a very little known spot in a riverbed that has ancient footprints from two different kind of dinosaurs, one a large brontosaurus-like critter and the other a smaller velociraptor-like predator called an acrocathosaurus. There areContinue reading “Stepping in the footprints of giants”
A vessel or canvas?
Recently I saw this as a prompt for a post online: “…some of the stonefemmes I have talked to recently have an interesting way of describing themselves in their relationship to stonebutches. One called herself a “vessel” and another a “canvas.” In your ideal scenario: Femmes, how would you describe yourself? Butches, how would youContinue reading “A vessel or canvas?”
I Don’t Pack For You
It waits in the drawer till morning, I feel it, watching me, through the wood as if it were a window, This alien piece of anatomy with no soul. I can feel it throb, hidden away, It’s attached, though it isn’t, Roots deep inside My hips saddled with femininity I want to slice off, TheyContinue reading “I Don’t Pack For You”
A Burd in Flight 