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.
My new window looks at rooftops architecture trees
and sky. My new window opens to the continuous city
work of maintenance and construction going from here
to there and back again the voices of cars and dogs
and humans and birds. My new window is busy.
After dark my new window sparkles with other windows
imprinted on dark silhouettes. The night sky changes
color and texture from hour to hour and the full moon
wakes me as it shines its reflected secrets into
my dreaming eyes. My new window is aware.
The NaPoWriMo prompt for today is to write about what you see through a particular window. This one is in the bedroom of my new apartment. I’m so happy I have such a good view of the moon, which has woken me up every clear night for the past week.
Why do you ask me where we are?
I lost my bearings long ago.
Each day is different, and yet very much
like all that have been or will be, amen.
You ask me for maps, for calculations, but
why not shower the world with devotion?
~and why should we not sing~
celebrating what is here and now
but also what leaves and then returns?
Every story continues beyond its ending.
Why not follow it around?
Why not grow wings, meet each day
without imprisoning it in either space or time?
The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write a poem that poses a series of questions. Since the majority of my poems ask questions, I also incorporated Merril’s dVerse prompt to write a puente.
fitzcarraldo n. an image that somehow becomes lodged deep in your brain—maybe washed there by a dream, or smuggled inside a book, or planted during a casual conversation—which then grows into a wild and impractical vision that keeps scrambling back and forth in your head like a dog stuck in a car that’s about to arrive home, just itching for a chance to leap headlong into reality.
that tiny room
the one with the steps to the attic
the one with only bed and dresser
nothing more fits
but the window with the tree
and the sky and the birds
I could leap out that window
like Wendy and the Lost Boys
riding the wind to faraway dreams
I could hide under the covers
with a flashlight and a book
a transistor radio playing
Fly Me to the Moon
I could accompany myself
by singing wishes on stars
on a moon that illuminates all
these yearnings pulsing through
the bloodsongs of my heart
The NaPoWriMo prompt for today was to write a poem inspired by an entry from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. What a wonderful dictionary! I will be visiting it again.
My fitzcarraldo is a bit less intense than Herzog’s…
What is?
Why not say blue
mirror, say deep well–
Why not say sun
light, say bright fire?
Dancing circles
into braided beginnings,
the meeting of earth and air
Weaving flowers
to welcome back
the missing and missed
Swallowing the past,
planting the future–
doing and being both—
Balancing the between
to expand
in both directions
What is?
Why not say moment
of birth, say the point when
life begins, say spirit,
breath, embodiment?
What is?
Why not say the pivot
of is and is not?
Sarah has given us the inspiration of Beltrane at earthweal this week. Whatever you choose to write about, remember that this is a celebration, of new life, of love and of the endless bounty of this planet.
will those still waters
fail to depart after all?
this center—in my ignorance–
drops me in
amidst a multitude of mirrors–
will I drift away
before even beginning to move
beyond uncertainty?
mind closed,
immobilized by the guilt
of experience, held captive
by that
which always leads back
to this
I used Lucille Clifton’s “blessing the boats” for the Day 5 NaPoWriMo prompt, and decided to revisit the poem for the April 6 dVerse prompt from Jade (Lisa) to choose one of your favorite poems by another poet and flip the meaning on it. I’ve been working on this on and off for awhile–it’s far different than my original attempt, and probably not finished still.
I’ve done similar exercises in the past, but never tried to be so literally opposite. It’s not easy.
I think the Oracle is telling me to slow down, stop trying to do everything all at once. Don’t panic because I can’t even find the box where I packed the scotch tape. Sometimes you just need to take time to breathe.
breathe full deep
climb between
always and after
follow spirit about
let soul in
wander quiet paths
listening to rivers
giving songs
to the wind
I too like the places
where categories are neither
and both—indistinct forms
replace the sharp edges and play
with what is no longer there.
Past and future give way
to presence, and dissolve
who I am—nothing
has yet been decided.
There is no need
to consult time, to hasten
the turning of the wheel–
life pauses–
the landscape seems different,
unattached to words
or specific actions as it
gathers me in, murmuring
my pulse with invisible
currents.
Crow calls to my soul–
a shadow casting deeper
than darkness or light.
The NaPoWriMo prompt for today is to write a poem that responds, in some way, to another. Liu Xia is a Chinese artist, activist and poet. “Twilight” is one of the poems in her book Empty Chairs. Although that particular poem is not available online, you can read some of her other poems here.
On the run, in retreat,
empty lots, dirty streets–
take the land, make it green–
thumbs and hearts, community.
Food to eat, flowers, herbs,
trees with branches full of birds–
an oasis filled with life–
lost then found, death defied.
I’ve been thinking about the earthweal challenge for Earth Day–what postitive steps have been taken locally to improve the environment?
NYC was in serious decline in the 70s–hence the famous headline, from 1975, below. Everything was falling apart, and there were vacant lots and abandoned properties everywhere.
Organizations like GrowNYC, Greenthumb, and OasisNYC began to foster community gardens in abandoned lots, renovated by volunteers from the surrounding area. Today there are nearly 600 such gardens in the city–everywhere you walk, you’ll stumble upon one. Managed by neighborhood residents, they grow all kinds of things, both edible and simply beautiful. They foster new and experienced gardeners, young and old. They sponsor art displays and performances, and act as community centers.
I used Bjorn’s prompt, at dVerse, to compose my poem for Earth Day in Anapestic Tetrameter.
Age is definable but never still–
we try to hold it back, but still
our age continues to rise
We linger in the still dreams lost
ages ago, unable to move on,
still refiguring the past
Must we always be aging children?
still youthful to our inner mirror, but
aged into bitters
Into a stillness of chimeric eternity,
searching for an ageless portal
stilled beyond time
Day 21 of NaPoWriMo asks for repetition. I’m not sure this is exactly what they had in mind, but it’s where I ended up.
K. 