words & art by shé

bookshelf

Tag: Mexico

  • Distance

    I waited for the graceful pod of dolphins to pass, and a barking sea lion, then pushed off a barnacled rock into the Sea of Cortez. I swam farther out than usual, instead of along shore. I want to become more comfortable in deeper water, so I am slowly adding distance. On the bluff above…

  • Intruders

    Sometime between yesterday afternoon and this morning, someone crawled under Habibi’s hull, moved a coconut oil container from on top of a wooden box, then took the wooden box. This was a box—one of two—I had found nearby, after a set of rude humans shipped out and left their mess behind. I was using it…

  • Coyote

    I met a coyote this morning while walking cerro de ballenas (Whale Hill). Blonde, slim, curious. After watching awhile and rotating her big ears, she trotted off toward the ocean. A few weeks ago I saw another one, larger, on the beach below, loping along at low tide. Several years ago in Northern California, I…

  • Rapunzel

    Seahorses dance with their mates every morning. What kind of world would this be if humans did that too? Here’s an excerpt from “Rapunzel,” courtesy of my forthcoming book, Sea Change: stories & splashes by Shé: Rapunzel rappelled down the tower wall, landed lightly on her feet, and headed west. Her newly shorn hair fluttered…

  • Erin Slade

    The Méxican Navy marching band practices several mornings a week near a local elementary school. I fall into step with the drums on my way back from the swimming hole. They are slowly slowly improving, coalescing into uniform pitches and tones. I admire their tenacity. I, too, have been practicing something difficult, though I used…

  • BellaMar

    “I am myself. I am singular.” —Faerie queen in Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands by Heather Fawcett 30 months in and I’m still surprised that I live on a boat. High and dry at the moment, but still in a sea-going vessel. “Ridiculous!” I laugh. Life is a twisty-turny adventure, that’s for sure. Habibi was recently…

  • Love Story

    Up late last night, working on a book of stories and splashes (art). Who knew that living in a boatyard could be so productive? Shoulda hauled out long ago…  Here’s an excerpt from “Love Story:” Our hands speak another language, independent of the kissing language. Our hands are chatterboxes, always commenting, caressing, caroming from hill…

  • Wild Swimming

    Evidently there’s a name for what I do: wild swimming, though I seem to be wilder than most. I usually swim without other humans; I don’t tow a brightly colored buoy; I meander, depending on the residents in view. Yesterday a big school of 2-3’ silvery stunners circled me in the dappled morning light, and…

  • Suzy Le Speed

    It is so nice not to feel desperate. Hackles lie down and rest awhile. Misery is merely a habit. Buoyed by the recent publication process, I am prepping my P.I. novel for same. The joy I feel is comparable to playing with Emmett, back in the day—pure, unadulterated happiness. Here’s a slice of Shoulds are…

  • Delfinas

    The panga zoomed up as I was exiting the water, the guys pretending to look for fish. I quickly wrapped a sarong around the swimsuited Bod, and turned away. All I want for Xmas is a private, secluded swimming hole. Is that too much to ask? Evidently. Better fix the boat sooner rather than later…