I Hope You’re Staying Dry: Hurricane Party, Sex, Drugs, and Witchcraft

This past weekend’s
Hurricane Party
Skate gang is
Sola, Samuel, and Swamp Bunny

Wake on Alligator’s couch
Sweet voices from the shower
You have a soft side Sola,
My Best friend with her fiancé, Cheshire Cat.
I am glad he treats you well
You rise together early morning
Playful in the shower

When I’m with you we
Pass the best days of my life
We spin dizzy colors
Bleed together and
Sting my eyes
This is Not a Drill
I am in Love with Mr. Alligator
And he is your fiance’s best friend

It is July there is a Hurricane in the gulf
Soon we will feel the sky shaking
Hide in Uptown, New Orleans I know I am not
Safe here yes, I am better off by my parent’s up North
Yet here I am and can you guess why?
I long to sleep tonight in the quiet dip in the sofa
Where you rest your head when you come Home,
Alligator, I long to stay by our friends
Dysfunction and drugs and playing
The Game yes, I love you in plain sight

In the mid morning
Sola and I wander to Tree of Life to
Pray for Rain to Cleanse our Sins
We pose each other in hot pics
For Insta she plants palms in
Damp peat moss in decay she
Kicks her feet up in an arc
Handstand against a low branch
Yoga, muscles, and curves
Unapologetic #ThirstTraps

We suffocate as we heal as Tree of Life
Tosses Spanish Moss in my open diary
Throw me something Ma’am
I take the moss home with me, because
You gave yourself of your free will
Unto me, you placed yourself inside
My diary you demand to lounge
Deep in my unconscious and you
Surface in my dreams in
Sexual fantasies I enjoy
Thinking of Alligator when I am with
His Best Friends I am
Aroused by the idea
Of them feeling envious of our
Tense desire our burning eyes

Tree of Life commands us to
Weave Magic
Into the tapestry
Into the sky
Sola and I gather moss for spell work
For darker days

I ascend her
Straddle her solid beneath me
“Girl You’ve Got To Trust Her
Or this will never work okay?”
Palms on bark, focus on her branch
In my eyes of ancients past
I’ve gotta trust what is directly in front
There is no fear in this moment
“I can’t look down or surely I will fall.”
Succumb to flying to
Standing on tippy toes to
Steal a Kiss her sun kissed leaves
Leave her blushing you always
Leave me wanting more
But you’re not here, are you Mr. Alligator?
And so I climb her more.

Back home it is late, late
Samuel turns off the TV and
Hushes the boys to let me sleep
In the nook of your body’s heat
I still feel you here
You slept here weeks ago
When are you coming home?

The next night we discover an
Alien Planet
Rich folk’s grass
The good kind on the
Golf Course at Audobon Park
Carpet exposes we are miniatures
Ant specks crawling under a
Purple and orange sky observes
Ancient oaks pause
Here and there as a
Humble Hurricane passes by
He arrives in finality and marvels
Me and the Gang
Break Federal Curfew
Indulge in rebellion
Punk Rock jacket I created
To show you who’s boss
I am the #SwampThot
Sola takes a photo of me
Stretched seductively
Across the slick keep- out sign
We give Zero Fucks
Piss on the pampered lawn of
Old Money New Orleans
Generations of dirty Money
Lavishness fetishized from the
Blood and sweat of Slaves,
Walking home on St. Charles
A blacked out car skids by
Samuel says they “must be moving
A couple Kilos.” Since “now would
Be the perfect time.” Says a cop
Follows in disguise.

Back home: Samuel presents a
Fancy case his wide smile with a flourish says
“Swamp Bunny, You Need To Smell This Weed”
My face betrays my repulsion my
Lack of experience with his decadence
Unintentionally personal insult
He has lost the ability to relate that
I cannot be impressed I make a
Mental note to tell Alligator,
He will be in stitches over this one.

Morning and Sola, Samuel and I blade
Audoban park in full lucidity
Of daylight we are
The Coolest Kids you’ll ever see
Who wouldn’t kill to hang with us?
Rushing past Blaring
Nasty music Dressed to
Impress Styled to Terrify
Moves to Testify
Samuel says he feels like he’s flying
I say I feel alive

Afternoon and we encounter a Vigilante Weatherman
At The Fly on the Mississippi River, says
He prefers to be called an
Armature Storm Chaser
I could not resist asking about
His homemade wind sock
Broken Sexton from Party City after Halloween Sale
Red Hair and freckles, eyes squint
Points to the Eye of the Storm
In the distance
Draws us a diagram on a
Stained Chinese Takeout Menu
I dare not correct him, bite my tongue
Struggle to keep from laughing that
Everything he has said is wrong, wrong, wrong.

The sweetest moment the
Hard candy on my tongue
Was a 5 word text from my Alligator
“I hope you’re staying dry.”

Night falls: Cheshire cat shows me
Patient bubbles in molten
Butter teaching me to make
Edibles Sickly Golden
Marshmallow and 90s children’s cereal
Always Watching Everything and Everyone
He takes it all in, I wonder
Does he have a choice? I wonder
Can he rest at night?

Hurricane Barry 2019 I spent with
My Best Friend Sola, with Samuel and
Cheshire Cat, cuddled in my Crush’s bed

And here in my palm,
I take home a mason jar of
Hurricane Water I gathered in heavy mugs
On the brick by her potted garden
Sola adds Brandy to keep it fresh
Now colors honey sharp to save for
Witchcraft for dry days
One for me and one for you.
And a boy for me and a boy for you.
How could I want for more.

Girls, Bodies, & Magic

Soft, pink & warm thing,
Palm of my left hand you lie
Sleeping you dream of dancing maybe
One day crying.

He is nearby.
Never sure if
He is watching,
So continue performing.
Carry on your
Prancing.
Let him close when he approaches.
It’s okay to look away when
He can’t see.

Disgust & self-loathing,
Feed your daughter before
She knows better.
Before she knows
She’s stronger.
Feed her poison when she laughs
Too loud. Shine her windows when she
Scrapes her knee playing ball.

Put a needle in her palm.
Buy her a shiny fish to stare at.

Teach her to slit her
Tongue
& Lick
Bruises, to keep cumming,
Flipping pages, avoiding
Rages.

It won’t be long till she understands her opinion is only valuable for marketing.

She’ll teach herself how to starve, don’t worry about that.
She’s okay, really, she’s okay. It’s not a problem because she
Keeps
Saying
She’s Okay.

And mind your damn business.

He had visions of you taking over this world and he was terrified, you shook him to his core. He knew, he saw your fire, he saw you dancing in red skirts, heard you singing wild, he understood the threat of your joy, the sharpness of your mind, the power of your body, the magic in your words,

He saw you as a weapon

& He made you believe that for many many years.

As you were born he feared you were a witch yet
Here you are a Sorceress
You are yet a queen
Embody
Goddess recognize yourself in the mirror
Honor her in each of your sisters
Don’t stop gazing
You will see

———————
Photograph at top is by: Aries Photography, find her on Instagram @ariesphotographynola
Modeling is by me: Mag

The Sacred Rite

It wasn’t until the wedding, when they stood at the altar, face to face.  Thick Louisiana hum, twilight filtering silver overtaken by gold from little fires here and there and torches carried by our family and friends, but mostly strangers here to witness and bask in the energy of this sacred Beltane Rite. We are witches, two days ago we met, and tonight we are wed.

Stars emerge paired with fireflies. Shed pieces of animal, plant, seed, bone, mother, flaking and gathering oil and smoke, deep scents on the large altar behind us, we stand under a canopy of palm leaves, a flashback to ancient Egypt and I know without question his eyes never left mine. 

We were humanity, mortality, filtered to pure sexuality.  We were chosen divinely for this role of the God and the Goddess embodied. As the May Queen, I was chosen by picking the drink of mead with a turquoise inside, while as he, as the Oak King, won my hand by catching me in the Great Hunt and correctly answering my riddle.

We stood, having led our tribe to welcome the springtime, to worship the deer and the wolf, on this sacred land of Gryphon’s Nest.  They followed us across the expanse of the field, carrying sparklers, surrounded by the swamps, to a great altar and circle around which they watched eagerly.

Our family gathered around us, all of humanity and bleeding animal, breaking hearts of gods and goddesses, angels holding their breath so not to cry, so not to sing. 
And sing, we did.

As the High Priestess and Priest closed the circle around us, and called the Elements, coaxed the corners of the earth to lounge as sacred voyeurs to human love and lust. Now silence falls, but the buzz of the land under our bare feet and radiating into our bodies.  I feel the embrace of my friends, I feel the heat of the man across from me as he gazed into my eyes with overwhelming passion.  Waves threatening to crest over my head, to pull me into the deep.  I desire so much as to meet your gaze, but I am so afraid.

Your burrow into my soul, in the most literal sense. A refusal to look away.

You find nothing in me scary

I become aware of a face in the circle, in line of my sight is Vovin, and my fear is shaken away with a wink and shimmy from our Man of Honor.  This is the courage I needed to move fully into my body.  Growing taller, hot tea swamp water soaking up from my bare feet, bruised with ripeness.

Overcome with humming, she takes a dare, she glances up at him.  Through fear, shyly steps out a quiet knowing.  A deep but sweet confidence, pulling the curtain aside, step into the Goddess, she has been here waiting patiently the whole time.  I lounge into myself like a warm bath.  Held in the embrace of your terrifying eyes I jump into a roaring river, equal so to dipping bare feet into a crystal stream, freezing and laughing.  And I did not look away, I burned right back into you, not a choice but an accepting an invisible invitation to dance from your playful eyes.  Swelling and body cooling and heating, growing taller, skin illuminating.  A goddess in all of us I stood for the girls, for Melody my niece, stood for my mother, for grandmothers of color, for queer sisters and for the sluts and for the women in Hijabs.

You were all present
And he saw that
Saw me jump in
Let go of my footing
Risk everything
His eyes grew gentle into mine
Float above the Earth and
Take a look down and see
Shining stones and gray moths. We all
Desire the same thing:
We all want to be loved
for precisely who we are and
in that moment I knew
You saw me. And I
Knew you met my eyes, I
Watched as tears formed in
Softly folded corners
Warmest blue in pain in clinging
to pieces of drift wood
Grasping at pieces of iceberg.
Clawing for a drip of water in
the desert I saw you also.
I jumped into the screaming
Truth and you were my soft landing
My gentle tether to earth
My safety
And I was yours too.

In your eyes a boy, a man, a warrior and a priest.  You’ve lived hundreds of lives, you’ve taken thousands more and the blood of old men’s rage pools in the lines of your palms, the same hands you hold your lover with. Those hands you hold back tears with, now you feel safe to lie them down and cry.  I witnessed in you each lifetime of all of humanity, I witnessed your subtle pain and shame, disguised and renamed, but now allowed to feel as he feels. I witnessed your craving, a violent movement towards healing.  Countless screaming births, and endless peaceful deaths. 

Love, in that moment you placed it all at our feet.  You surrendered your desire to be a martyr, left it with the God you embody on this holy night.  You released your white-knuckle grip on your sword, and we watched it fall silently to the floor. Years and painful years, heartache and movement and a running on and on, mountain to sea to valley, to the suffocating dust of Mars.  Your home is here and now.  You, now, accept your weight, your physical presence under the moon here with me.  With your family. 

Please tell me you are real

My love, in that moment we knew.  Rushing together, divinely paired. You took my hands and in front of every living being on earth, with every spirit past and present, with the ancestors looking on with bated breath with each speck of dust and moons and earthworm’s soil.

I declared my love to you in our wedding vows
I spoke for all the women
Felt for us all
And when you spoke back, your voice shook,
You spoke as poetry
As you declared yourself bound to me

And nothing you said could be doubted as anything but the immortal truth

The High Priestess and Priest placed veils upon our heads and great headpieces of antler on you and flowers, moss, and insects upon me and we allowed ourselves to be guided to the ground, red and pink and white flowers arranged in a perfect pentagram, our wedding bed.  I watched, through the eyes of divinity, as you laid down for me.  As I placed myself upon you, legs over your body, weight on your lap, my hands gently steadied on your chest. 

Sacred Rite: a Marriage, a Vow, Sex between Heaven and Hell.  Creation of Pleasure, Celebration of Mortality, burning inside lust a sexual desire and all began to dance, all began to chant and with Mugwort wafting over us, we held out thin hands to welcome  a Chalice for me and an Athame for him and slowly, gently, agonizingly, you placed yourself into me. 

Crowd shouting, creatures weeping, the Rite is complete. We are guided to our feet, my Chalice is filled with mead and your Athame dipped in honey and each person passes by to sip and kiss and receive blessing, maybe a message as well.  As they pass, and make their way back to earth, to the pool, the wild after party, we collapse together beside a small fire, as the ritual area is tidied. We did not speak at all, in the afterglow of deep ritual of possession of our bodies by celestial beings.  You looked off into the distance, at nothing in particular, creating space to return.  I snuggled between your angled knees, and there we held each other, and the Earth continued to turn as Spring quickened and romance blossomed and the insects resumed their day.  Dark now, the agonizing angles of your face flitting about by light of the fire, lean muscles in your arms made sharp by shadow.  We gazed and gazed in silence, basking in the glory of Beltane, of the God and Goddess’s lingering presence, of our scents and each other’s primal sexuality, basked in Mead and Honey we were blessed, but more so, we blessed each other, but most of all, we allowed ourselves to receive. 

Two simple, holy, breathing creatures. Holding on, letting go. Return to our bodies, allow the deities to go back home. From that moment, we knew as our hearts beat with the turn of the Earth, we would never be the same again, and we would be bound in some way for all of eternity.

Please tell me this was real

The Serpent

Here I lie it is 2019 and I never imagine things would come full circle with myself alone in perfect symmetry in the middle of my bed, an enchanted room I have created and in which I make magic in New Orleans, Louisiana.

Half of me is lit by Magdalena’s dancing flame, a soft gold as I fall asleep, the other side lit by white roaring lighting, wild and loud. And all the while my lost love Maynard chanting and this magic builds in my delicious room. Mer de Noms on shuffle and no, I am not triggered at all. I shine. Basking and swelling, humming prayers as I slip into sleep.

Full circle

Sweet child, if you could only see me now. Maybe you do, maybe that’s why you hold on.