I’ve forgotten yesterday by the time today approaches. The past is a dream I can no longer access—an afterthought, insubstantial—something I once acquired and then quickly lost.
But my hands remain busy, continually shuffling the cards. Each time I turn them over I see nothing–both sides are empty. No surprise. They have been empty for a long time now.
The hours chase me unguided through tunnels of almost and maybe, seizing and destoying probably until it’s anyone’s guess. My mind has become an imperfect mixture of what I can’t recall and what I don’t want to remember.
The wind tells me stories, invites me to become a passenger inside its song, cut loose from any need to reconstruct the places I have been, the ones that once contained my life. I am weightless, free. In the tender gray I swim undisturbed.
The prosery prompt at dVerse, chosen by Lisa, is from Celia Dropkin’s “In Sullivan County”.
1 we can hear the universe sing on the edge of time– from nothing, vast light
2 earthshine– reflections of change and reprise spilling from our eyes
3 a map sweeping life away– mountain water green
4 what was not, now is– what holds the earth’s hand as being collides?
5 from the inside out, like the tides, become somewhere else
Laura at dVerse asked us to use the last lines of our recent poems to construct a new poem of at least 12 lines. I went through all my poems both here and on memadtwo from November 1 until now, only adding one word, like, with the tides. The title is from the last line of a sijo, hence its length, as opposed to my normal preference for short lines.
you fling the blooms, graceful– hands filled with abundance, harvest untroubled by time’s immanent decay,
the cost of seeds waxing– each life encircled by its opposite—how all language breaks in to tears—
but dance!– the seasons are not closed—the same sun that sets early now will grow, expand, greet sky open
again, in tangible contrast to our useless attempts to resist, turn back clocks, challenge the tides
My response to Merril’s autumn ekphrastic prompt at dVerse. I chose the above image, Child Dancing With Chrysanthemum Branch. Chrysanthemums are the birth flower of November, symbolizing both long life and mourning or grief. I’ve used Jane’s Oracle 2 words as inspiration.
I did not realize until after I wrote the poem and was searching for appropriate images how well it fit this response to Nick Cave’s soundsuits that I did for a recent Kick-About prompt.
The soundsuits created by Nick Cave, the artist, are totally different than the songs created by Nick Cave, the musician.
bombs are cold explosions of bitterness sucking the warmth out of what remains of possibility
bombs are greedy machines, meant only to destroy, burn any seeds, annihilate life
bombs are hungry voracious conduits for our worst impulses eating our souls from the inside out
A quadrille for dVerse, where Lisa has given us the word warm. In 2014 I did a series called “What Is It Good For?” on memadtwo. There were, as always, many conflicts in the news. Hearing this song from Buddy and Julie Miller this morning, it reminded me of the art from those posts.
It also made me think again of how cold this winter will be for the Ukrainians and so many others the world over. How short our attention span. How little we have learned.
What IS it good for–the guns, the bombs, the dying? We know the answer.