music

it’s dark and raining and I can’t see the night sky shining

she said it
and then she repeated it

we already knew
but we had forgotten

and then she sang it
in the voice of sunfire

she sang it blue
through the clarity of sky

she grew it greenwise
inside the trees

and with the wind she
sudden opened hidden wings

shining golden between
floods of cleansing and sorrow

shining silver under
the full stillness of the moon

shining through the dark
with a universe of welcoming

and every word she said
was filled with grace

and every sound that lifted
her voice was mercy

and every feather
was transformation

glittering like stars on
the outline of her embrace

When I saw the dVerse prompt this morning, I could see the hand of the Oracle.  I had just written the above poem the night before.  Although I usually use the magnetic tiles to consult with her, these very vatic words, which certainly did not come from the planning of my conscious mind, had all the elements of her voice.

The image provided not only seemed to mirror my words, but reminded me of some of my art from the archive, rorschach paintings that also come out of the unplanned intersection of paint and surprise.

I wasn’t sure how I would approach posting these words, but here was the opening.  Thanks Jade!

equinox

summer s

gather well
in preparation
for winter

give good thanks
harvest the sharing
nature’s gifts

day then night
opposite equal
complete whole

wheel turning
the waning of light
enfolding

birdling center s

I’ve borrowed this birdlings collage from the archives to illustrate Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge this week, autumn/spring equinox.

seasons lg s

I haven’t seen the birdlings since my previous move–they may be in storage.  But they are always here in spirit.

Time Has Come Today

time won't let me cosmic s

You can sometimes combine the beginning with the end.  But take care. The interplay must never be rippled—look for translucence, a changing density that mirrors the journey of the stars.  Listen, then turn around.  Threaded into the horizon you will sometimes find the edges.  Two of nothing will show you the way.

The clock invited me into its worn house, where twice a day there was a meeting place that balanced on the verge of departure.  Forward or backward?  I became lost in the movement, spinning around into all directions, endlessly lost inside each new location.

If I had found the common denominator…if I had been able to reconfigure what was left behind…if I could have traveled in tandem with the shadows…but if is not when.  It is over, said and done.

It was a time and there was never enough of it.

time won't let me white

For Prosery Monday at dVerse, Merril gave us a quote from Allison Adelle Hedge Coke: when it is over said and done/it was a time/and there was never enough of it.  I ended up writing with a stream of consciousness hangover.

For my art, I took an old collage and superimposed it on a newish painting in Photoshop.  As soon as I read the quote I thought immediately of this song.

 

 

hollering (75th anniversary of Hiroshima)

hollering s

I hold my own hand
and step into that place
I don’t know and can’t see–

I was always making it up,
but in reaction,
waiting for clues–

Now I see only myself,
my indecision mirroring back
and making me hesitate–

More than a crossroads–
paths appear everywhere
as the center shifts–

I sway with choices–
pick a card, any card–
eeny meeny miny mo

cranes s

I wrote this for the earthweal weekly challenge strange world.  When I went to post it today, I realized it’s the 75th anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing, so I decided to include some of the art and words from my previous 70th anniversary post.

70 years cranes s

The madness of humanity has been evident for a long time.

no meaning no sense
words are lost is there a way
to stop this bleeding

70 years close up 1s

What are we going to do about it?

This is our cry.
This is our prayer.
Peace in the world.

–inscription on the Children’s Peace Monument in Hiroshima
http://www.nippon.com/en/images/k00009/

also linking to dVerse OLN hosted by Lillian

whalesong

blue whale s

whalesong magnetic s

When I saw what the Oracle had given me today, I went looking for an old post I had done on blue whales.  What I wrote six years ago is only more true today.

The blue whale is the world’s largest and heaviest existing animal. Hunted almost to extinction by whalers in the 19th century, it is currently endangered, like many other species, by habitat loss due to pollution and climate change. Toxic chemicals and the warming of the ocean disrupt migration and food sources, sonar disrupts whale communication, and whales also collide with ships and become entangled in fishing gear.

Humans have not been kind to whales.

blue whale eye s

A good, if depressing, compilation of whale and human history can be found in Philip Hoare’s book “The Whale”.  My review on goodreads is here:  https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/118181104

http://www.whale.org/
http://www.savethewhales.org/

Also linking to earthweal open link weekend.

ancient blue
spirtsong follows
deep moonpath

listen as
secrets breathe between
waterlight

The Local Crow (revised)

crow 3s

Crow calls to me from above–
“Crowman are you stalking me?”
There he is—on that roof.

Call to attention–
the question
harsh, always interrupting

the pause between the lines.
“Do you want me to look up?”
He extends the invitation again and again.

“I’m telling stories,”
shape-shifting in the interlude–
“remaking the recent past.”

how to release and how to begin–
but that part’s invisible,
stark with intention.

“…or do you hear it?”
unseen voices echo across the gap,
“and are you laughing at me?”

an interior bathed in blue–
“OK—I’m leaving that world—”
memories circle round and round–

“I’m here now, present.”
thoughts hang in the air–
“I’m unfolding those regrets.”

Crow flies over my shadow.
“Are you happy now?”
the clash of silence, unbound

crow 1s

Crow has been following me around for about 15 years now.  I notice birds all the time, but I don’t always know what they are saying to me.  I have a tendency to space out, especially when walking.  Crow’s message has always been clear:  get outside yourself, pay attention.

crow 4s

A message that’s more important than ever.  For Earthweal, messages from the wild, hosted by Sherry, a revision of one of my many poems about Crow.

Summer Meadow

summer meadow close up s

visions of windsong–
waves play currents of magic
painting textured light

Inspired by the photos of Phil Gomm, I tried to recreate one of his beautiful fields.  I will need to explore this further, and of course, as always, I think it needs some stitching.  (I’ll add that in my spare time…)

summer meadow s

For Trank Tassone’s #haikai challenge #148 summer meadow.

It’s so unbearably hot here, it’s hard to find much motivation.  Con Ed keeps calling to warn me the power might go off due to everyone overloading the grid by using their air conditioners.  (I have open windows and 3 fans.)  They are promising us a break on Friday.

among the purple heather

among the purple s

solitude
unwinding beneath
meandering
skies, layers
circling back on themselves, cross
currented by wind–

trees sweep leaves
into shapes–shivered,
spilled over
edges, cast
shadowed with spirits holding
earth connecting air

scattering
blossomed voices—bells
calling words
into breath,
into dances that whisper
sanctuary—“come”

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.

I recently came across a video that talked about asemic writing, and using it as a prompt for extracting poetry from your unintellible scribbles. I decided to use Sue’s photo as a guide for my asemic composition, first using fine point markers in colors that echoed the landscape.  I then freewrote what I thought my marks were trying to say.

among the purple ansemic s

After that I took watercolor pencils, dipped them in water, and wrote asemically again over the markers, blurring both.  I looked at what I had written in my initial response, extracted some of the ideas, and formed them into a shadorma chain to go with the final composition.

among the purple close up s

 

When I saw Sue’s photo, the first thing I thought of was the traditional Scottish song “Wild Mountain Thyme”.  Joan Baez did a famous version, but I think the one I remember most from my youth is by the Byrds.  It’s been covered and reinterpreted by artists as varied as Van Morrison, the Clancy Brothers, and Ed Sheeran.  I listened to a lot of them, but I really like this one by Kate Rusby.

among the purple ansemic close up s

July 2020

july 20 grid 1s

I see twilight be
coming dawn–clear, unjingo
istic, open, free

I usually do a red white and blue grid for July, but this year it doesn’t feel right, just like our national anthem has never felt right to me.  Not even considering the character of Francis Scott Key, I never wanted to celebrate bombs bursting in air.  I don’t think God is on “our” side.  There is nothing that makes me any more deserving of anything than any other living being of any other nationality, race, or religion.

july 20 grid 2s

Everything that happens everywhere affects everyone and every place on Earth.  Unless we learn to act on that truth, there is little hope for humanity’s survival.