At the Farmers Market, where I had occasion to give the butcher a frightful row, because he said, “Where have you been?” I said, “Oh, I’ve been hoovering, actually.” He looked at me and said, “You’ve never picked up a hoover in your life.” I said…
The truth is, I was bored.
My mother blissing ahead of me, rosebuds rising in her footsteps,
And I skulking behind, thinking,
Oh look. She walks in beauty.
Her power could boil rivers, if she chose.
She doesn’t choose. She scatters
Heliotrope behind her.
And me, I’ve no powers. I think she’d like
A decorative daughter. A link to the humans
She feeds with her scattered wheat.
A daughter wed to a swineherd’s just the thing
To show that Demeter’s a down-to-earth
Kind of goddess.
Do you know what swineherds talk about?
Diseases of, ways to cook;
“That ‘un’s got no milk for ‘er shoats;
Him, there, he’s got boggy trotters.”
And when he leaned in, smiling,
While we sat in a bower sagged with Mother’s honeysuckle,
When he said, “Now,
My herd’s growing and I’m thinking I could feed a wife—”
That’s when I snapped, I howled, I ran.
And when a hole opened up, a beautiful black, in all the pastels of my mother’s sowing.
Let me fix the lie: Nobody grabbed, nobody pulled.
I thought it was a tiny earthquake,
Thought I was killing myself,
Starting a long journey to Hades.
It was a more direct trip
Then I’d imagined—
I landed in his lap.
He just looked at me, said “Well,”
And kept driving his chariot down,
Flicked his leather reins near my face.
He did not give me flowers.
He never spoke of pigs.
Didn’t speak much at all. Just took me down in darkness
And did dark things.
I liked them.
I stumbled through his grey gardens, after,
Sore and smiling.
And the gardener said, “Little girl,
Little sunlit flower,
You belong in the world above.
Trust that they’ll come for nyou,
But while you wait
Don’t eat the food of the dead, for it will trap you here.”
And I said give me the fucking fruit.
But when I ate I could hear her howling,
See her spreading winter on the world.
My poor mother, who missed me after all;
My poor swineherd, starving.
Huddled up for warmth with the few he hadn’t eaten.
I spat out half the seeds.
So now I suffer through the summers,
Smile at the swineherd who tells me
Which shoat is off its feed.
Smile at my mother and walk behind her.
My powers have come to me now, and in her candy-colored wake I scatter
Sundew and flytrap, nettles and belladonna.
I smile and wait for November,
For when I come back to you.
Your clever cold hands and your hard black boots.
I don’t ask what the leather is made from.
I don’t think I want to know.
[This was not written by me; the source is linked in the post, but it’s hard to find in some formats. Here is the source. I did not write this!]
Most children, Asher Svidensky says, are a little intimidated by golden eagles.
Kazakh boys in western Mongolia start learning how to use the huge birds to hunt for foxes and hares at the age of 13, when the eagles sit heavily on their undeveloped arms.
Svidensky, a photographer and travel writer, shot five boys learning the skill - and he also photographed Ashol-Pan.
"To see her with the eagle was amazing," he recalls. She was a lot more comfortable with it, a lot more powerful with it and a lot more at ease with it."
you know what
I loved unicorns when I was eleven/twelve years old and then I learned that it was real soft and nerdy to love unicorns so I checked out of the whole unicorn-liking mindset because I felt a need to be hardening myself and copping a dark-stuff-only stance
then when I was 19 my girlfriend gave me a coffee cup with a unicorn on it and on receiving it I discovered that I had internalized some bullshit anti-unicorn stance and it made me sad
to those unicorns who didn’t get liked by me during my bullshit years: my bad, do you like carrots, I will leave a plate of carrots out by the back door, I also have oats
Remember Champ, the happiest dog in the world? His owner, Candice Sedighan, just shared with us a new series of photos she’s taken of the adorable dog and his new found friends. Recently, Candice ran into a man who was holding chicks in a box. “He asked me if I think any factories would want them, but I offered to take them instead so I could find them a safer home. I bought all the necessary supplies to keep them comfortable and healthy for a few days, and will be donating them to a local college’s teaching farm.” See more photos of Champ and his adventures via Instagram.
Seizure First Aid.
Learn it. Share it. Know it. Use it.