step through, not around–
inside the moon, inside dark–
be a traveler
step through, not around–
body recedes, senses flow—
become the beyond
inside the moon, inside dark,
merge with currents, remnants hewn
before conscious thought
be a traveler–
look within through lunar eyes–
transorbital guide
Sarah at dVerse provides the irresistible prompt of moon-names for October’s full moon.
I’m still obsessed with the troiku form, and I revisited my moon postcards from POPO 2021 for further inspiration.
I’ve been having vivid and strange dreams this week amidst restless sleep. The moon keeps me company.
sacred fools are neither
god nor angel
not secret not magic
open to joy
they remember the rhythms
of the vast universe–
how to dance like stars
flying wild inside the sky
if you listen to breath being born
you can awaken voices
air singing oceans through trees
healing the holes
in the broken heart of night
The Oracle knows all about the moon, fools, dreams, and night.
1
Once upon a time, wonder. Inside narrative, it becomes lost, leaves only invisible tracks. Who will see them, find them, save them? Always a long journey to the center of the spiral.
where
is happily?
nowhere to be
seen–
and after?
suddenly it engulfs
2
Over rainbows, they said, somewhere, lies the road to Nirvana. Don’t be fooled, they said, by the enticing Road to Ruin. But where to begin? Where, even, is the rainbow? I appeal to the mystery hidden inside darkness.
track
my journey
by the moon
Two quadrilles for dVerse, where Merril provided the word track. I was inspired to write these by Lisa at Tao Talk, who used “once upon a time” as the beginning of one of her troikus for her poetry postcards this year. I’ve illustrated the quadrilles with some of my own poetry postcards from 2021, where I printed some of my moon photos and gave them words.
My message this morning from the Oracle, with some moon photos. Taking a photo through a window often results in interesting reflections.
These two photos were taken a few minutes apart as the moon was setting in the very early morning. I have no idea what that blue light is.
beneath the language of the wind
sings the shadowed sky–
sea dreams in need of moonshine
show me the ship that lights
the way through this timestorm
she said
who will sit with me after
and recall how and why
we fiddled away our garden
with the honeyed music of lies?
I expected something much darker from the Oracle this morning but she knows I’ve been watching the moon.
be full of this
always moon
never let dawn
fall through air unwalked
every path comes and leaves
between earthlight songs–
deep ancient nights rooted in following
the seasons of birdgrown afterdays
ask why and
if
Photos taken from midnight to this morning.
I tried to photograph the lightning–
the flash between the layers of sky—
(no thunder)
clouds streaming over the moon
how many miles distant?–
far away, too far away to hear—
a silent film that eluded my camera
so I let it go and let it shine
in bursts through the window
into and through my eyes
the color was salmon, maybe
yellow, maybe pink—a pastel
shimmering against the dark
eventually the moon disappeared
behind the false storm,
and only the city lights glowed–tiny
squares of refuge against the night
For this week’s challenge, Brendan at earthweal asks us to interrupt our usual programming with flashes and booms of this extraordinary power. Lightning falls: what are we going to make of that?
If I could see horizon’s light at first dawn,
Venus would greet me shining up the rising
sun. But I live in darkness, almost-full moon
suffused with secrets, luminous, surprising
me–reflecting through my window, later, soon–
casting shadowed leaves that shift, mesmerizing,
absorbed in Van Morrison’s musical dance–
hazy as to borderlines, transformed, entranced.
Perhaps Diana orbits inside my dreams–
I almost catch her in the wavering beams–
and following the fragments, drift—caught between.
An eleventh power poem for the prompt offered by Grace for the dVerse 11th anniversary celebration, also in answer to this week’s W3 challenge, a response to Steven S. Wallace and his poem “Oh Luna” that contains three proper nouns.
It’s not October, but we can still dance.
I fold my
questions into cranes
and send them
flying on
the wind—what hands will catch them,
pull them down, greet them,
unjumble
and complete their dreams?
wide, deep, clear,
cast to sky,
they celebrate–streams of stars
danced in waves of moon
A shadorma quadrille for Merril’s prompt of celebration at dVerse. I also used the words she generated from Oracle II. Above is the almost-full moon shining through my window last night.
The Oracle knows where to look and how to listen.
we are all sailing
the same starry skies
in ghostflower oceans of eternity
ask how breath heals
the broken rhythm of the heart
remember to listen
to the foolish magic of children
lingering in this long night–
as if life is born again
dancing awake each morning
K. 