Sharp- A Weyward Sisters Collaboration

The Weyward Sisters strike again.

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

I am playing with knives
again
sharpening them
lovingly
against brown leather strap
admiring the way
hair splits cleanly
upon the well-honed edge
(Christine E. Ray)

Listen!
Sounds like a violin–
fine strings ‘gainst steel bow
I play concerto
splitting hairs
(Kindra M. Austin)

I’m trimming those frayed ends
sharpening those
pointy convictions
giving them a sharp edge
a serrated opinion,
ready to pierce you
where it hurts you more
(Megha Sood)

Cold steel on skin,
I blossom,
stare down the line
take aim
at friend, foe and fortune
with my throwing knives;
multiply and divide,
split and survive.
(Kristiana Reed)

I like a razor
but xyraphi sings to me
of shreds, edges, ends
sweeter than any cutlery.
An x is an eraser,
that’s why I draw it long
to keep it clean and short
and shave me complication.
Oh, how…

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The 65 Meaningless Women of Brett Kavanaugh and the Nature of Sexual Assault

Calico Jack – So, somebody found 65 women Brett Kavanaugh did not rape. Does that mean anything other than that the speed with which it was accomplished is a bit suspicious?

The Psy of Life

MoralChoicesRoy Moore & Moral Foundation Theory

So many men have been accused by so many women of sexual impropriety that the process now follows a predictable path. So, much so, that like very thing else associated with the Brett Kavanaugh Senate confirmation process, it is proceeding at breakneck speed. We have the accusation, the denial, and the testimonial of what a great guy he’s been to x-number of women. Any attempt for the accuser to remain anonymous is not allowed. She is either doxxed by the incel misogynist crowd or her accused supporters which usually overlap by this point in the story line, or she comes forward of her own volition realizing that her accusations will not be taken seriously without her pretty face next to them so everyone can judge for themselves whether she was worthy of sexual assault by such an esteemed man or not.

Here’s what caught…

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Fleeting is this Time

Jan Malique reflects on time and voyages.

strangegoingsonintheshed

IMG_20180908_144834180_HDR Beach at Mellon Udrigle, Wester Ross, Scotland, Jan Malique

Our visit to Scotland is now a bag full of memories consisting of words and images. Time passed in a slower fashion, you could say it strolled rather than ran. Perhaps to remind us to savour the experience of the journey, and to drink deeply of its essence from the cup.

Do I sound moribund and Eeyorish? Dear readers, by now you should know my predilection for things drenched in the gloom of twilight. The surreal and out of the ordinary fight for supremacy in this currently gnat bitten body. You’d think these annoying critters would have died off my now. “Damn you” she says raising a fist to the heavens.

IMG_20180908_144513879_HDR Sand tributaries, Mellon Udrigle, Wester Ross, Scotland

I digress. Back to this rambling musing on the ephemeral nature of a thing called Time. It flows like water in a stream…

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I got a new smile for less than fifty dollars! (Don’t look at me like that — keep reading!)

LuckyOtter gets her smile back.

Lucky Otters Haven

toothless-old-woman-image-41425394

Hey girlfriend!  You don’t have to do that anymore.

 

I have a problem many people today have.

I don’t have dental insurance.  I haven’t had dental insurance in about 20 years.   Although I try to take good care of my teeth and brush and floss at least twice every day, I have not had regular checkups and I certainly can’t afford any expensive dental work on my own.

I had strong, beautiful teeth as a child and didn’t get my first cavity until I turned 13.  But since I turned 50, my teeth have become a lot weaker and much more prone to decay.   I also have a sweet tooth. My love of sugary treats has certainly done me no favors.

me1977

Me and my winning smile in 1977.

In spite of my careful dental self care, over the years I have lost all my back teeth (molars) and find…

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Needle

TheFeatheredSleep – Of Losses

TheFeatheredSleep

Learned early

How to let go

Always saying goodbye

Short twitches of time

I learned

Through closing french windows

Palid light playing in empty spaces

Where dust looks like a jewel and distance

Can be swept up with the debris clamoring to get there

Doing nothing honors nothing

So we packed our memories in minced words

The river poorly stretching like colourless yawn

You inhabited the past before a future existed

Leaving, the ambelical chord severed in a neat recoil

And I learned, as in your turn you learned and in your mother’s turn she knew

Not to expect the people who should love you, to stay

I am a string of colored glass about memories neck

And as the rocket becomes totem in rain swollen skies

I wish myself an astronaut

To propel from tierra and leave behind legacies

Of loss

On a hot night, my hand sweats the…

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I used to be a dominionist without even knowing it.

LuckyOtter – recovery from abuse and “dominionist” thinking

Lucky Otters Haven

angry-violent-god

I’ve written about dominionist Christianity extensively, so I won’t describe it at length here.  One of the most toxic and abusive doctrines of dominionism is that if you are vulnerable in any way — if you are poor, sick, disabled, mentally ill, or even a person of color (in dominionist doctrine, people of color are believed to be derived from the line of Ham, the son of Cain, who was Adam and Eve’s “bad” son — in the past this has been used as “biblical” justification of slavery) — these are all indications of God’s disfavor and people “afflicted” with these things deserve their lot.   In contrast, God’s favored people are always rewarded with great wealth, perfect health, and no disabilities.  They are also usually white and Republican.  This is why dominionist Christians feel no obligation to show compassion toward the sick, poor and disabled (as Christ would do) —…

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Missing in (in) action

Jan Malique has been traveling.

strangegoingsonintheshed

IMG_20180912_221713469_HDR Image: Jan Malique

You haven’t heard from me for a while due to falling down a rabbit hole. Well, not quite true, lack of access to the internet is the reality. Don’t tell anyone will you? The White Hare has a reputation to maintain, and being his partner in crime, so do I.

Our travels through the Wester Ross region in north western Scotland have yielded many photos and stored up memories. Rather like laying down fat stores for Winter. Which will be needed in the return to harsh and dangerous landscapes Beyond the Wall (i.e. work). Fellow Game of Thrones fans may afford themselves a wry smile at this point. I certainly will.

IMG_20180909_104708335_HDR View from our accommodation in Poolewe, Wester Ross

This holiday has been filled with exploration of loch filled glens and staring at the fluctuating moods of open skies.

Alas there has been nil action in the…

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Two cars going in separate directions

TheFeatheredSleep – Signs not seen until after parting

TheFeatheredSleep

What is contained in motion? In separation? In the fluid trajectory of two cars

driving in different directions

when once they drove together in one, singular and twice

with music playing like a warm stove in Winter

watchful eyes glinting at the movement of her soapy shoulders

inhaling a song they both liked

was it really so long ago? time can be a fickle fellow

you believe things have not changed before

the car wreck distorting metal into specters, and then mangled see

all the signs and wonders leading to your loss

glaring and obvious as they were not before

I would say four years, six, maybe more

since like powdered sugar you shook her

out of your system and changed the channel

you think she couldn’t pick up on the dull flat key of your promises

or the way you did not meet her pleading eye

and had someone…

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Take My Light

Stephanie Bennett-Henry – Never to be hushed

Stephanie Bennett-Henry

Everything bent away one day, turned dark when I blinked, took the universe on a spin, taught it how to crash and burn beyond recognition of any kind of come back. Sometimes I wave at the memory, but usually I ignore it ever existed at all. Sit here like a clean slate that never had a choice to be anything other than a daze wiped blank by my mind’s eye when I looked away. The dark grows on me like skin I was always meant to slip into and get stuck there. I stopped searching for light, put a halt on the idea that a glow exists in anyone’s eyes like a compass that may show me which way to go. I’ve taken that road and it ended with a road block that said nothing more than go fuck yourself. I stepped over the stones, just along the cracks of…

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My parents and I survived my ‘Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria.’ This is our story.

Sam Dylan French – What seems sudden and rapid has history.

Let's Queer Things Up!

Yes, it’s true.

I am a survivor of Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, otherwise known as ROGD.

And if you’d talked to my mother back then, you would’ve gotten a very panicked account of how abrupt my coming out was.

But my story isn’t hers to tell.

(She, by the way, would totally agree with that statement. This is why she isn’t posting about me in online forums or participating in “studies.” Also: Hi Mom, love you.)

And while I wish I had the Perfect Transgender Narrative™ to convince you of my validity, I don’t. I didn’t always know I was transgender. I’m not even sure exactly when my dysphoria really started.

But if you knew my story, you might realize why that makes sense.

I was a sheltered kid growing up in suburban Michigan. And while I’d been bullied for being “weird,” and always felt like the “black sheep”…

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