music

The Age of Aquarius

Back when the musical “Hair” came out, some astrologers grumbled that it wasn’t really the Age of Aquarius yet. But what did we care? We were tired of the world as it was, ready for Peace Love and Understanding.

Well…maybe not.

chaotic stillness
watching from the whorled center
for new beginnings

During 2020 there were rumblings once again online about the REAL Age of Aquarius finally showing up. I was skeptical to say the least.

all those lost patterns–
I collect them in my mind,
in new rotations

It seems we had the Age of Aquarius skewed, not only in time. Yes, it’s a total tearing down and rebuilding. But it’s going to require hard work. Taking a lot of drugs and wearing tie-dye and listening to songs about love won’t do it.

all impermanence—
no matter which way you turn
the path continues

Can we change our entire approach to living together, not only with each other, but with the earth, its creatures, its landscape, its elements? We need to if we want to survive.

giving myself hope
inside my dark wanderings–
a world of wonder

When Phil asked me to choose this week’s Kick-About prompt, I thought immediately of The Age of Aquarius, because I’ve been turning over in my mind the hope that it might be real, that humanity can change. I always loved the music posters of the “Hair” era, and used them as inspiration for my neon colored paintings.

I’m looking forward to seeing all the other responses next week.

light years

black
hole
rabbit
hole—is it
curiosity
or gravity that pulls us in?

The NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 7 is to write either a shadorma or a Fib poem. I’ve written hundreds of shadormas (see Days 4 and 6 for example), so I decided to try a Fib, inspired by this article I was reading in the NY Science Times: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/03/24/science/astronomy-messier-87-black-hole.html

It’s a form that seems especially good for questions.

masses of green

The NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 3 is intriguing. I already know about Michael McClure’s “Personal Universal Deck” and it’s on a long list of things I’d like to do as I love cards of all kinds. But it needs more than a day to do properly, and I only have an hour on this particular day.

So I stuck with the Oracle’s deck of magnetic words, as I do most Saturdays. She knows these are holy days, as is every day when we pay attention to the wonders of the earth and its seasons. Who will save her?

spring seeds light
birds flower air bees
following

walk with green spirits
on earth as it is

Linking to earthweal Open Link Weekend.

the great beyond

I consulted the Oracle this morning while thinking about Colleen’s #TankaTuesday theme chosen by Merril, immortality. I was surprised when I went to post it how it follows the Oracle’s message from last week–beyond to the great beyond. Although I am consumed, one might even say overwhelmed, by my moving tasks, as long as my computer is still assembled I will continue speaking with the Oracle on Saturdays.

black as death
we say—but what lies
whispering
like wind like
skyshadow singing through blue
lightdreams and still seas?

remember
the rhythm dancing
dazzled with
starsisters–
embrace the open window–
vast secrets flying

Thirteen Ways (after Wallace Stevens and Joni Mitchell)

1
Did you know? Was it you
who sent Crow? Black wings
swallowed by the sky—

2
I had time and seasons
rising to meet me
like trembling in my bones,

3
like Icarus ascending
on beautiful foolish arms.

4
Crow and I
are not one–
but we are together in this
cosmos, on this earth.

5
I do not know myself
and yet I know of the intersections
of that unknown self
with the call to attention
that is Crow.

6
My mind is busy
with trivial things.
The shadow of a cry
spills everything out
empty
waiting for the return
of listening, watching.

7
O ragged soul—
why do you take flight?
Do you not see the trees?
They are returning from the dead
again and again.

8
I know many words
and the images that accompany them.
But I know too
that Crow lives deeper and wider
than what I know.

9
Diving diving diving diving.
There is no bottom no top
no inside or out.

10
At the sight of Crow
resounding the light
the layers reveal
their chorded songs.

11
I walk these streets
in oblivion,
trying to escape
the fear of the known
by making up stories
that rearrange my life.

12
I hear my fate turn turn turn—
how many crows?

13
Always standing in the doorway
like Janus—neither and both–
cursed and charmed—
Crow laughs—he knows
I have a dream to fly.

Brendan at earthweal asks us this week to think about the nature of poetry. I first encountered Wallace Stevens and “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” in high school and it remains my poetic touchpoint more than 50 years later. But equally important to my connection with poetry was music–first, traditional folk music, and then the whole crop of singer-songwriters that emerged from the folk revival. I love Joni Mitchell’s “Blue”, but “Hejira” has always resonated with me most of all. The form of this poem is based on Stevens, but the spirit and italicized words are taken from Joni and from my own encounters with Crow, a master shaman.

I have not been posting much, and will probably be mostly absent for the next month or 6 weeks–I’m moving (again). But this is good news! I will have a dedicated work space once again, and a real kitchen. I knew the last 2 moves were temporary, but I thought both moves before that would be the last one–so I’m making no predictions. But I’m planning to be there for awhile.

International Woman’s Day

Gonna Take a Miracle (for Laura Nyro)

Uneasy. Have you sinned? Did Pandora pull you from the box holding your dreams? Did you flee after filling your mind with the fruits of Eve?

Go naturally. Sing the madwoman, the sorceress, the witch of becoming, Our Lady of the Moon Eclipsing the Sun. Sing terrible and trembling, elusive and out of control.

Time is near. Still living in a paradise of fools. Still living in a valley full of the shadows of fallen angels. The Devil is still hungry. The Devil is still sweet.

Way down there. Meet fire with broken wings, broken heart, broken promises. Tangle time up and lay time down. Wash the sky, the water, the land, the air. Stand on the brown earth with dreams and a white dove.

No chains. Going to the moon dock going to the luna tick tock with medicine in my hand going to visit Our Lady of the Holy Woman the Holy Golden Wager. Footslipping off the cliff out the window got blinds drawn all over me.

Freedom. Under the boardwalk. Up on the roof.

A daily blessing:
ride the fury of the soul–
sing the glory road.

Ingrid at Experiments in Fiction asked us to post something for International Women’s Day, today, March 8. I wrote this poem, first published in Formidable Woman in 2018, using the music of Laura Nyro as inspiration.. This year’s theme is #ChooseToChallenge. And so she did, and her words continue to resonate.

transitioning

Unlike the past few weeks, the Oracle had no hesitation about what she wanted to say. It’s a bumpy road, but we’re moving forward now.

here is a dark cup
of lies–
time will salt them
and feed them
to ghostfish
haunting the oceannightsky

away with you!
morning celebrates
like a wild flower

Art is from 2018.

Meetings with Strangers

What is the name
for the brink
of between?

How to bridge
the gap? What lines
cast what shadows

into the way
of where or when?
Why bother

either saving
or spending
time?—it can’t

be returned
or made to last
beyond the edge.

A quadrille for Jade at dVerse using the word way as inspiration.

Joker’s Wild

It doesn’t matter if you say
no
in fact: why not?
go ahead

I’m taking it with a grain of salt

It’s a blessing in disguise

I may have missed the boat but
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it

in fact: the sky’s the limit

And if I’m not playing
with a full deck: so what?
I’ve got an ace in the hole

I’ve got the whole nine yards

I’ve got all the time in the world

Take a wild guess–what’s in my hand?
Gobbledygook? Only a joke?
Hullabaloo? Mirrors and smoke?

Juggle to play–where will they land?
Diamonds and kings? Jack and a Trump?
Ace in the hole? Or just a hunch?

Song and a dance–strike up the band!
Monkeys are here–business to make–
Chickens are counted–won’t calculate.

Quick! Heads or tails? Where do you stand?
Not fair at all? Surely you jest–
I’m just a card–take a wild guess.

Two final fools for 2020, both from 2016. I wonder what inspired me that year? Let’s hope 2021 deals us all a better hand.

infinity

in the beginning, dark–
isn’t it always?—then
inside the seed, the egg,
illumination—orbs
invoking each other,
imagined, conjoined, kin–
instruments of (re)birth

The musical selection of seasonal carols that is the Kick-About challenge #17 made me think of the cosmos–not just the return of the light this season celebrates, but the vast circles of time and space to which we belong. But how to show this in a concrete way?

I turned to sacred geometry–the Seed of Life and the Egg of Life, images based on seven circles as a framework for the whole of creation, forms that also echo the tones of the musical scale.

For my collages I used images from 2 of my reference books–Majestic Universe and Space Odyssey. It was a learning process, fitting all the pieces together like a puzzle, but I eventually approached the images I had in my mind.

And for the poem, a seven line form–appropriately named Pleiades. Its six-syllable lines also reflect the 7 + 6 circles of the Egg of Life mandala.

K.

lines that aim to be