Saturday, June 29, 2019

Piecemeal, a Poem

piecemeal

Everybody is a patchwork
of who we used to be

We cut the thread
spin a new one
measure once cut once, twice,
keep remaking ourselves

Piecemeal
we stitch as we go
we embellish & accrue

New patterns.

Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Beyond Belief?

In my new post at Medium, I finally get a story baby out into the world I've been trying to articulate for ages. I've been feeling my witchiness a lot, and it's empowering as all get out, but that doesn't mean I suddenly got religion. Witch does not equal Wicca.

Here, y'all go read it, then have a yummy Strawberry Moon day: Magic without Boundaries: On Freeing Witchcraft from Religion

I’m interested in the roots of the idea of witches. Hedge-shadowed women tending to ailments and creepy, haunted-eyed soothsayers. I’m into reading my tarot cards and kitchen witchin’ and being the scary old bitch who tends her plants and hexes the Southern Baptists who have no idea how right they are calling me a witch when I volunteer at the abortion clinic.

Friday, June 7, 2019

Diagnosis, Divorce, and Divination at Medium

I'm writing some essays at Medium now, exploring some personal things that people online and in dirtspace have said resonate.

Medium's an interesting platform. We'll see how that goes. You can read several articles a month free, and for $5, buy an unlimited reading membership. When members (paid or not) give me claps, their version of likes, it boosts my stories and that's how I'll make money there.

In my first piece, Diagnosis, Divorce, and Divination, I talk about how the past year was Big Ass Transformative Energy as viewed through the lens of the Death tarot card:
And that’s the reversed meaning of the Death card. When it appears upside down in a reading, you aren’t ready to confront the major changes in store for you. It’s the face of stagnation. Of feet stuck fast in the mire, unable to take the first step.
It’s the holding pattern before all hell breaks loose. 
I drifted through months that I remember as being almost completely filled with sleeping off headaches.But one night at 3 o’clock a.m. I woke suddenly, breathing in gasps like I’d woken from a nightmare. I was wild and wide-eyed and said aloud into the cool silence, “I cannot grow old and die with him.”
It’s powerful symbolism for me that this clarity came at the witching hour.

I'm really, really excited to be branching out publishing-wise and giving my writing the same ownership I do my drawings. I've got fiction brewin' too. Good things happen when I'm a healthy creature.