I visited the Geek Oracle for a change of pace, and the birdlings seemed once again appropriate to the message.
open this world
this network through which we
light names each star
while galactic flames stream
out of the living source
what do you want?
the reckless places
like newborn constellations
exploding the dark–
by merciless force,
adrift in the orbits
of recurrent night—
these seas of hope?–light
storms searching for ports
A shadorma chain for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday words, grace and style, inspired by Amaya at dVerse, who asked us to think about birth.
I’m definitely a storm searching for a port at the moment, so I’ll be around irregularly for awhile, but I won’t completely disappear.
Complications sour the air. It sits heavy like a rock, immense and expanding. I am pinned to the low and the unbending, hard consonants without vowels.
This place reeks of precarious edges and uncertain lines. I am starved for words. The familiar has become unreadable, untold. Noises have become forms that weave themselves into a motionless net around each ungathered piece of what might pass for sanity. I grow continuously neither better nor worse.
I do not remember what I asked of the universe, the cosmic spirits that randomly move the pieces of my life, that giveth sometimes but often only taketh away.
O yes, their ways are mysterious. Blood and Violence merging into Just The Way Things Are.
If it’s darkness we’re having, let it be extravagant, deeper, emptier, more ravening than their insatiable hunger.
Let them dine alone—I will swallow myself
Victoria at dVerse has given us words from poet Jane Kenyon
If it’s darkness
we’re having, let it be extravagant.
for this week’s prosery, a 144 word composition.
I am also linking to The Myths of the Mirror November Writing Challenge–a non-human point of view.
silent beneath trees,
rearranging the distance
with colored light—no one knows when
or what comes before ever after
A nonet for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.
She talks to
me but the voice casts
no words, just
same sounds over and over
without an ending.
All at once
overlapping itself with
She seems lost
in a space beyond
an untamed ocean dazzling
color into light.
Bjorn has asked us at dVerse to try changing our point of view–I took a poem from 2018 written in first person and became the observer, watching the original narrator and attempting to describe what I saw. I think I observe situations and animals or landscapes in poems sometimes, but not often actual people, because it definitely felt awkward. Still, I think I managed to keep the original feeling.
You can see the first version of this poem here.
Enmeshed by expectations, I keep spinning into tangles of self-imposed tempests. Where is the thread that will uncoil the gyring currents and release my thoughts into exhalations that echo with waves of light?
spirit of the wind
dance me with dream dust
A quadrille haibun using dVerse host Kim’s word “keep” that considers the withering wind of Frank Tassone’s #haikai challenge #111.