body mind time
collaborations
concealing
revealing
light line shadow surface trace
inhabitation
reshaped by
fragmented motion
like shadows
like mirrors
reflecting and following
the moon caught shining
left exposed
particles disguised
by outlines
beclouded
by time by futures eclipsed
by the dance of stars
A quadrille for dVerse, where De has provided us with the word star.
constructing omens
out of wishes on the wind–
a crow’s silhouette
A small poem for the NaPoWriMo prompt of a very small thing.
I can’t dispute the Oracle’s words.
black blows the skywind–
raw shadowships raining
the bitter storm language of lies
into the bare breasts
of dead mothers
you ask for spring
and the music of love
when the sun is swimming
through seas of boiling blood—
what can grow here?
“There is no glory in battle worth the blood it costs.”
–General Dwight D. Eisenhower
Since Nina and I started blogging in 2014 I’ve posted far too much art about war.
It seems like every day I read a new article about the need for a sabbatical from technology and the fast pace of the world. Those slow pandemic days are fading fast.
Some people talk about a secular Sabbath, some want to revive the religious one. Some people propose not only ditching technology for 24 hours each week, but creating new shared rituals and places for community during those times. Some talk about just taking a day to go and sit with the trees, to experience the world at their pace. I wonder how many of us could actually slow down and withdraw from our devices enough to actually spend a day that way.
And all of these ideas are a hard sell in a capitalist world.
the water reflects
the world through the trees dappled
sky moving over
rocks and feet planted
like hushed reeds waiting to sing
the songs of quiet movement
and transforming light
This drawing is part of my attempt to try different things in my art journal. Many artists write on their pages as well as draw. The image is based on an advertisement photo–I removed the models and the product (I can’t remember now what it was) and wrote spontaneously about the landscape. Whatever they were selling, I wasn’t buying. But I always notice trees.
let life move
while you rest outside
and listen
For earthweal, Interdependence Day.
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.
If I became
the wind, I would be
breath itself–
no need to swallow
air and turn it
vibrating into sound.
I would be
the universal chord
transformed into stories
that appear suddenly
surrounded
by stars,
carried by
the voices of
cosmic seas.
I would speak
in parallel
with the trees,
listen
as they released
their wisdom
on the wings of
birds, woven
with ancient messages
still wild and waiting
to be translated
into form.
I would be
the light
reflected as sky,
the night’s
dark
mystery.
I would be
every song
all at once,
the portal
into what can’t
be seen.
Do you hear
the whispered
invitation?
It is the unbroken
promise of
the moon’s return,
the painted journey
of the sun hovering
on the horizon,
of the waters
that rock the ages
into safe harbors.
Will you follow?
Stand open
and still
and be
prepared
to fly.
I’ve been working on this poem on and off for awhile. And I may work on it again, but here it is, as of today.
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.
The Oracle really made me work today.
when there is not enough
moonmist for sleep
ask time to be still
let music whisper like light
do not dream shadow language
into the wind
sail like stargardens
of shining sky
* carl jung
bells
answer
each other
ringing over
and over as they
tangle with the wind, spin
sailing into echoed waves–
voices patterning the air with
streaming currents, orbed layers of song
A reverse nonet for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday words, mingle and drift.
I had an idea for the art and I did a few different versions with ink and watercolor on rice paper. Although none are exactly what I had in mind, they all have aspects I like.
Also linking to dVerse OLN.
and as a bonus two very different versions of The Carol of the Bells
K. 