Author: Beth Maiden

the boat

on windy days the sea-wives would be busy with the boats.

the port

the woman brushed the wet sand from her dress. the pair walked on in silence

the fog

the woman walked south
along the high cliff path

dreams

i dreamed my name

i dreamed my mother

i dreamed i was a rotting log

the spider

the woman remembered
the swivel of shod hooves on the dusty road,
and running.

At last

we are drunk for the first time
in the foothills
of cadair idris
fresh out of school where for five years they called us lemons
and dykes.

“Dear Data”

Exploring and sharing the secret parts of ourselves (an ongoing project between my friend and I rooted in Emergent Strategy and Octavia Butler's Parables novels).

Untitled (Mother)

sea, ever changing, ever constant.
what do you know about mother?

you cannot know mother.

The Story of the Nether Largie Stanes

"Mooooooon!" Earth would call up into the darkness. "Gealllaaaach! Come down here and talk with me, for I long for a sister who understands me, and I feel you could be the one."

Then I danced

Twenty seconds in the wave came up through my body
I was sobbing
moved through it
breathed through it

I threw the weirdest shapes
got out of my head
let my body lead

ES-periments

This month I am experimenting with:
* Overcoming nice girl conditioning
* DESIRE / dance
* Zero fucks