women are spinners

‘Women are spinners and weavers; we are the ones who spin the threads and weave them into meaning and pattern. Like silkworms, we create those threads out of our own substance, pulling the strong, fine fibres out of our own hearts and wombs. It’s time to make some new threads; time to strengthen the frayed wild edges of our own being and then weave ourselves back into the fabric of our culture. Once we knew the patterns for weaving the world; we can piece them together again. Women can heal the Wasteland. We can remake the world. This is what women do. This is our work.’

From If Women Rose Rooted by Sharon Blackie

woman and nature

Women which works which without whole weights which was without within which which when

of oysters other only organisms opposite optics of of

might many make matter machine matter mechanical may material machine may motion moving maker mechanics microcosm moment moment

and are are acts actions according and are a as and always action and and angles argued and a and as a a animals all all and at

not named.

 

Not naming never new no nothingness not now

a and air and all absolutely are angle always and actual again a a and and act and act and act a and are as asks an admit and are afraid are and and and and as

that the the table the this to this to though think there twice the this teacher tells the the the to the the the to to the the the the the take textures twigs the the to the this the they them

us unknown unknown

ride rely rides rule roughing respond rolls rope

each earth everything exciting expression every edges every each ever events elements enter.

 

[the letters: w.o.m.a.n. and n.a.t.u.r.e. taken from page 20 and page 193 of Woman and Nature by Susan Griffin, 1978]

gaze

my daughter saw my avatar on twitter yesterday and mentioned in passing that i should take it down because those sort of photos sell for a lot of money to men who, you know, ‘like’ that sort of thing. i was left a little stunned but deep down knew that of course, that sort of thing happens all the time on the net. i was left a little saddened that my two feet, thrust straight out over a gushing river, toes a little pert, a little parted, could possibly be the subject of some bloke’s weird sexual fantasy, more saddened though because i initially thought it safer to photograph the part of me that was the most separated from my head; the part that rendered me the most anonymous and expressionless. i guess even this distant part of my body cannot escape the male predatory gaze. looking back at the photo now, i can see that it gives away possibly more about me than even a simple snapshot of my face would have ever done. how naïve i was. afterwards, my daughter suggested that i should take it down so that i could sell the image and then at least she said i would be able to keep the money myself.

tooth

this is no good
it’s been hurt we should pull it knock
out the crown~ expose
the velvet entryway
enter at first with possible violence
the enjambment
might be a shock

witness the drill silence
the rotting root~

it goes on and on

the corrosive hole
rimmed with titanium
with whispers
someone needs saving
fill with disparate
insidious
flavours

you say
now it’s time you stood on your own two feet