mandala

composted

always digging deeper–
roots that grow below, restore–
listening through decay beyond stillness,

a place that is neither
dark nor light, yet full, aware,
gathered germinating into witness,

distilled light casting words
that linger as counterpart–
revealing mysteries in all that is

held on the wings of birds,
circulated through the heart,
absorbed into the spiraling axis

It’s poet’s choice of form at Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, and how could I resist a syllabic form called “kerf”? I meant this also to be for the earthweal challenge this week, earthcraft, but obviously did not finish it in time.

Once again, art from the archives.

world weary

you drift along,
along and along,
without wind or sea–
can you see
yourself moving?  or is
everything drifting?  is
it all doldrums,
your mind sailing on doldrums,
on emptiness, what is
no longer there—was
anything ever there?

you long to immerse
yourself, to immerse
your body in the sea,
the primal waters of the sea–
to float and forget, to
dive and immerse
yourself in life’s womb, to
close your eyes, to
shrink, becoming
a stone waiting to
be cast and skipped rippling
back to where you belong—

where do you belong?

you drift along…

Laura at dVerse has us repeating ourselves. Not difficult for me, as my mind likes to travel back and forth and revisit what it has already said before.

oyster shell 4s

My images are also recycled.

Night Ride

I drift inside dream rivers open and wild with singing, flowing through unexplored dimensions into rough horizonless seas.  How will I cross?

My vessel waits, slowly filling with circular light.

in between what and
if sail the indigo night
gardens of the moon

A haibun with the theme “flower moon” for Frank at dverse.

nevertheless

The Oracle was obviously missing the birdlings.

ghosts linger as dark stars
dazzled holes of lost time

ask the angels how to remember
flying the sky
melting color like sacred fire
dancing with air

if we sail our breath
with wild naked eyes
vast and opened into listening

who will we become?

Also linking to earthweal open link weekend.

if the circle opens, will it become a line? (#2)

The Oracle’s message today reminded me of a collage I had done awhile ago. When I found it, I stole the title as well as the image. You can read the original here.

if I can remember
the color of myself
insideout

naked    foolish    magic

will my broken breath open
and ask for the air I need
to see voices
sailing on a vast listening
of oceans surrounded
with life’s slow sacred rhythm?

As usual, the answers are elusive.

Carapace

Carapace—
who speaks?—carapace—
dream landscape
indigo
blue paths going from nowhere
into nowhere else.

A shelter?–
a support?–cosmic
tree growing
up and up
with turtles all the way down
to infinity…

green sea turtle s

Sarah at dVerse asks us to consider the word blue. I did have a dream with a disembodied voice repeating “carapace”, and used it as inspiration for the shells I painted for the Kick-About prompt “Museum Wormarianum”. The dream was saturated in blues.

Both Nina and I have painted and drawn and photographed turtles and tortoises many times at memadtwo. They are wonderful–and need I say? endangered–creatures, believed by some cultures to hold the earth, and all life, on their backs.

And here’s some classic blues performed by the Turtle Island String Quartet.

centermost

become empty—o
pen yourself until the wind
fills you to zero

draw yourself in circles, hold
your essence out, listening

For the final day of NaPoWriMo, the prompt is to write a poem in the form of a series of directions describing how a person should get to a particular place.

Thanks to Maureen Thorson for once again providing a home for poetry and for all those who read and commented on my efforts this April.