The woman of indigo


You can throw me down beneath my homeland

The earth beckoning my bony flesh

Glorified and holy as the stable creche

There I will deny your victory fresh

As I bloom again within my familial heartland

You thought me shallow, but I am buried deep

within the tributaries of river roots overflow

deep enough to honor the woman of indigo

I raise my fertile froth as surging archipelago

As I rise in my power, return to your garden to weep.


No longer McBeezled

Once a thief, always a liar

Once a thief, always a liar

There is no door on my home

There is no “where” I roam

That permission is granted

For you to again request access.

The lights in my windows

The warmth of my hearth

Are obscured from your blows

You, with chosen corrupted self-worth

My over shoulder refrain to your

Strut of smoking guiltless shame

“Never again. Not ever again.

Once a thief, always a liar

You raped what you so

Deserved in your own destructive fire.”

I stop with me

I have discovered a magic within

one that depends not on blood, kith, or kin

It is the luminous moon

the heated sun

the gathering of teary puddles

the shattered undone.

The siren’s wail of my mortality

blooming forth into all possibilities

For some a child is a promise of eternal life

a quenching relief from the death born strife

But I have found magic within my hands

which I’ve been commanded to touch on the lands

to forgo my fears of tomorrow’s gleaning

to step loudly into the room of vanity preening

that I, with the breath of truth on my lips,

must shatter the walls with the twitch of my hips

While singing hymns of thanksgiving, love, and peace

While weeping with gratitude, I crawl on my knees

The oceans of tears that matters to healing

have accepted my joy of life now appealing

For I have discovered my magic within

Ne’er shall I die, for the darkness can’t win.

October, 2011: The Spider Dance

Every night for the past two weeks we’ve had a large garden spider build its web on our porch post. I’m not a particular fan of spiders, but this one was large enough to witness many events of its life. I watched as it caught bugs in its record album web. It pulled huge holes in its hard work to wrap up its latest victim.  If I blew on the web, it would raise up its front legs with the second set waving violently to protect its domain. I sort of “adopted” this spider because it carried on despite my fascination with it.

 Last night, however, there was an epic battle in the circle of life that I was fortunate enough to witness.

The web was built in the spiraling pattern with my “pet” sitting square in the middle. He had already enjoyed a tasty snack on a couple of larger bugs that landed and promptly became trapped. For most of the evening a smaller wolf spider kept trying to get up into the center only to be chased off by the larger garden spider that called my porch home.

The pushing of boundaries didn’t seem to be working for the wolf spider all that well. Whenever it would get close, the garden spider would drop down, hiss (if that’s what that noise was) and the smaller spider would back off by turning and spinning away smoothly on it’s own addition to the web. This repeated for a few hours. Test, guard, retreat, try again.

I wasn’t feeling well so I went out on the porch to sit in the noisy night. I noticed that the little wolf spider was still trying to take over the larger spider’s domain. This time, the tactic had changed. Instead of the wolf spider attempting to move in from the bottom of the web, it had climbed up the post and was trying a horizontal instead of vertical approach. Cautiously, the wolf spider crept farther and farther towards the center where the garden spider sat, seemingly unawares of the invasion.

The wolf spider rushed towards the center, but the garden spider, realizing his peril, pushed back the onslaught with wildly waving forefeet. The wolf spider turned and ran, but not to the edge of the web as he had been doing. He only retreated a few inches before turning to once again attack. As the wolf spider moved forward, the garden spider refused to retreat. He pushed forward and again drove the attack back.

When the two spiders did get close enough, the waving of the front four legs from both of them was truly amazing. I’d never seen spiders fight before, so I was quite fascinated. Waving madly, they both held their part of the web with violent tenacity. Neither one would allow any give. If the garden spider moved forward, the wolf spider’s legs would seemingly get stuck in the web. If the wolf spider moved forward, the garden spider raised up to its full height and punched viciously.

“Oh my God!” ripped from my lips when the wolf spider, without warning, leaped forward and had the garden spider wrapped tightly within its deadly embrace. It appeared to be stinging the garden spider with its rear end. The front legs of the garden spider were waving madly and not finding any purchase as it hung from a strand of its own web. The wolf spider relentlessly gripped the garden spider’s hind quarters. A shiny jelly-like substance oozed down the garden spider’s belly. The once frantic legs twitched slightly as the wolf spider ate. A few more twitches and my “pet” spider became the hunted and killed.

UPDATED THE NEXT DAY: Spider okay, turns out they were just mating rather violently. I feel dirty.

The Mute Woman

How to make a daisy crown

How to make a daisy crown

I made daisy crowns and dandelion necklaces.

I climbed trees with my knees scraping bark

to see what was on the other side of my neighbor’s fence

or down the hill, or off in the distance on a sea of treetops.

I drank water from the dog bowl to see if it tasted different.

I tried cat food to see if they liked things the same as me.

I wove elaborate stories, like plays,

that I repeated until I had them memorized

then performed them to blank-faced audiences of dolls.

I became a mosquito scratching relative legs until they sprayed me away.

I watched from my window, every day through winter to see the first robin of Spring.

I dashed wildly, madly through the scented Autumn leaves.

I splashed loudly in puddles

when I didn’t have on rain boots and when I did.

I drove a pedal car up and down the sidewalk in front of my home;

Mine was green, my brother’s blue.

I rode my bike as fast as the wind

skinning the ends from my toes for riding barefoot.

My baby doll became a real child needing care

right down to being walked in a baby buggy, pampered and cuddled.

I sang songs when there were people around

and when there wasn’t.

I wore the brightest clothes I owned with pride

but refused to wiggle my fanny at school for embarrassment’s sake

foregoing the envied bunny tail.

I dreamed of long hair like my favorite Aunts

but my hair was wild, unruly, and never behaved appropriately.

I played race car with the electric socket and a key

learning just how many people I could scare at one time.

I saw my world as beautiful, wondrous, and awe-inspiring.

My memories have not been muted, although faded a bit,

Dog-eared around the edges, notated and rewritten with crayons

reversed into a parking spot reserved for each one.

I take them out and drive them around adult conversations

but they get dismissed as comical fancies

disapproved of as childish rubbish.

But they’re wrong.

My childhood held many terrifying horrors.

I don’t think these wonders I hold in my memories are comical or rubbish.

They represented my soul unfurled like a battle-worn banner

proclaiming my liberty from my aggressive oppressors.

They were a time of exploration, learning, and comprehension.

They were and are my life boiled down to the simple things

that so many struggle toward, but I hold dear to my heart.