Indiefied- A Daughter's Geography

I am absolutely in love with the A Daughter's Geography zone.

With keen eyes and an adept, thoughtful pen a dimension has been wielded where you can get your cultural fix, grow, sigh, feel the sun on your face, and embrace your womynhood.
Here is a particularly fly poem Bianca, the Dimension Keeper of A Daughter's Geography granted us permission to reprint.


no regular dance

my blood heated up that one august
standing on the front porch with
a mango slice to my lips
sun ablaze
bouncing light off my eyes
waiting for the rain
yes even the hurricane became a musicmaker
drumrolling thunder accented by bamboo chimes
my feet in time with the raindrops
didn’t stop til clouds covered up that last
bit of sun

i was blown for years by those storm winds
into superstitious salutations
on dance floor patios in backyard Miami
where our mamas didn’t see us windin
arms swinging
trying to swat mosquitos and look fly
at the same time
a flame in the corner of the club
or a moonbeam on the beach
show me hip shaking the everyday stranger’s hand from
round my waist
“mami, lemme dance witchu.”
uh uh no me tocas

estoy buscando el ritmo perfecto
and it ain’t no regular dance i do