My ode to growing old gracefully.

The Thought Harpy

Ode to Menopause

Her fan cuts the air 
The flutter of angry bird wings 
In terror flight, into the gloom of night 
She embraces the CHANGE 
With sweat, 
Hair drips, 
And a vociferous, "Puta madre!" 
Echoes, echoes...

Skin, a sacrificial immolation 
An offering to the Diosa de las Viejas.Coyolxauhgui -- goddess of the moon --has abandoned her, 
Carried off on the flush and whiffle of wings, 
Returned to the glorious moon where lovers reign

The golden bells upon her cheeks, faded 
Replaced with the folds
Of her Earth Mother, Coatlicue 
Ancient rocks and crevices 
Filled with secrets 
Filled with song 
Memories, the trail on her journey 
Like ribbons and seeds left behind 
To mark her sojourn, 
As evidence, that 
She was moist with wetness, 
Once.

This pinche cosa called, MENOPAUSE 
No vieja sleeps tonight 
A guardian of dream shadows 
Seca, Peppered with brownish-rose colored spots Where things were…

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Tangled Tales: Ashes

A story about siblings. No paranormal. Just real stuff.

Vampire Maman

“I want my ashes scattered in San Francisco Bay,” said my sister Roxanne.

“Do you know how many bodies are dumped in San Francisco Bay every year? You’ll be down there with Laci Peterson’s head,” said Phil.

Jeremy looked shocked. “What?” I don’t know why Jeremy looks shocked at anything Phil says anymore.

“You’re disgusting Phil,” I said. “Why do you even say shit like that?”

Phil didn’t answer. He never did when I called him out about his inappropriate comments.

We kept hiking along the winding path towards the beach, a gray haired foursome of two men and two women. My brothers Phil and Jeremy, and my sister Roxanne and I were finally going to scatter our parent’s ashes.

For years Mom had kept Dad’s ashes in a box in the back of her closet, along with the ashes of our two family dogs Weimar and Clyde. Mom had been…

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Feet on the Floor

DiAnne's Scribbles

When our feet hit the floor in the morning,
We know we’ve been given at leastone more day,
And for that giftwe should be grateful.

Many times peril has put obstacles on our stage,
Forcing us to become heroes in our own play.
And, after so many acts in so many plays we may wonder –

What remains?And do we have the strength to actit out?

I suppose if we can continue to believe in the moral philosophy
that brought each of us to this day then we can honor, not abhor,
the struggles that have revealed how strong and hopeful we really are.

And, if we have embraced the beauty and strength of our souls
as they have grownthrough thedissidence to date,then we can continue
to draw from that strength and hope going forward.

So, as long as our feet keep hittingthe floor it is incumbent upon us to…

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The Sculpture

Brilliant. A nightmare for sure.

Dysfictional

In my tiny prison, I barely have room to stretch my legs. I don’t know how much time has passed since I was imprisoned, but time is of little concern to me; all that concerns me is escape. I will not rest until I am free.

I was once queen of a thriving civilization, a labor of love built from the very ground by the tireless toil of its citizens. We never dreamed our world would one day crumble, but that day inevitably arrived. An impervious outside force attacked. Liquid fire rained down on us, dousing our glorious city, incinerating adults and young alike in the volcanic deluge.

I survived only because my chamber was at the heart of the city, furthest away from the lava flow. I managed to wedge myself into a small enclosed space long enough to withstand the heat. That space became my prison. When the…

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Short Story Sunday: Holy Grail

Vampire Maman

“I found this in the ship wreck.”

“What is it?”

“The Holy Grail.”

“Another one?”

“Looks like it.”

Durce stood with his friend Morant on the cold beach as they examined the golden cup. Morant stood with a seal skin over his shoulder, dark hair dripping salt water, and wearing nothing else, looking like something like a man off of what would centuries later be called a bodice ripper.

You see, Morant was a Selkie. In the sea Morant was a seal. On land he transformed into a man and kept his seal skin with him. If someone took his seal skin he would never be able to return to his seal form. Fortunately Morant never had that problem.

Druce was a Warlock. In contrast to his dark haired dark eyed friend he had sun streaked hair and bright blue eyes, a look that would centuries later be known as…

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