Dreaming of fertility goddess

First I dreamt I was pregnant, wide & heavy in the hot sun. Waddling gracefully hands on belly. It felt as if the sun shone from my womb. New life. New energy. Full belly of it. Heavy expectation hanging over my waist line.

Next I dreamt I was with my lover in the throws of passion on a bed structured for display. Teaching the young men in attendance how to approach a woman. How to pay tribute to her curves. How to hold her flower. How to make yourself her instrument. One after the other I taught them all individually with gentle loving attention. Growing stronger & more powerful as I swallowed their seed.

Then I dreamt I was on my hands and knees in the garden. Dirt under my fingernails. Sun on my back. Plucking big fat strawberries. Sticky juices running down my arms and legs. Summers bounty literally overflowing everywhere the eye can see.

Is this what the sound of my ticking biological clock sounds like? Or am I entering a particularly fertile creative time? 

Either way I awoke luminous.


Year of yin: living memory

May, I want to hold you in my arms gently like a new born baby. So red and soft like a mouth. So tender and delicate like a wild rose.

My arms can not contain all of your quiet wisdom like the dead of night. So dark and soothing like a whisper. So thick and solemn like a smudge.

My feet cross gently through your pastures in the grey morning like lovers secret prayer cheek to cheek. So sweetly tempting like fresh bread. So warm and nimble like a candle. 

May, you have unburdened me in your shy wisdom, and carefully heaped on new cares for the watching. My life is full of your loving missives, and yet I fear all that you would offer me.

My eyes are weary from straining to see your shapeless form like moonlight on the mist. So vivid and ephemeral like a dream. So white and cold like fresh snow.

My pen falters to capture your silent musings like the roots that weave their history underground. So deliberate and deep like a well. So knotted and sturdy like a lock.

I welcome you dressed plainly in empty thoughts like a beggar turned messiah. So humble and weathered like a stepping stone. So wry and mischievous like aged whiskey.

May came to me on borrowed time. Gone before she was realized. Fleeting in retrospect, long in practice. Accompanied by her apprentices passionate carnal hunger and dire thirst for knowledge. Patiently she guided my hand, showing me how to paint sorrows and joys in the same stroke. All I can do is practice what she taught me as one hour becomes the next. Me always trying to out race the sun; her always waiting in the shadow. 


5x femz feelz

Here is your long weekend reading list on the tongue in cheek theme femz feelz which playfully refers to the emotionalized femininity which has been hyper-sensationalized and sold back to us as a derogatory trait instead of a consecrated achievement in brutal vulnerability. I suggest you read these after you paint your face in your warrior colours and cry and scream until the colours run together.


  1. Carolee Scheemann  on Feminism, Activism, and Ageing via AnOther
  2. Sick Woman Theory via Mask Magazine
  3. Negative Emotions are Key to Well Being via Scientific Americans
  4. Louis Bernice Halfe reading Success In Spite Of on BBC Radio via Pam Bustin
  5. Aninas Nin on Why Emotional Excess is Essential to Creativity via Brain Pickings

Bonus listening my favourite album of all time Jane Vain and the Dark Matter’s Give Us Your Hands


The snake who swallows her own tale

“If this love is only fleeting” she laughed “then I want to immortalize this feeling”!

Sucking the sticky ripe juices off of her fingers she dangled her heart precariously between her thighs on a white gold chain. 

Useless metaphorical organ. What care had she for sentimental affliction when there was such lust for life to tangle with?

“I must be careful how I immortalize you though” she whispered, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “Build The Beloved into a shrine and surely end by sacrificing myself on the alter”. 

As she reminisced plucking the edge of the sacrificial blade  sumptuously a cool breeze collected at her feet.

The reckless recluse lay helpless and bare in the hot summers eve. Afraid to move lest she accidentally squeeze him to death under her heavy eyelids. 

She lapped up his harsh sincerity lavishly while her gold scales unfurled her longing one drop at a time.

They lay together thus ensnared in unending midnight as a snake who swallows her own tale. Bewitched by love eternal; the self sacrificing goddess.