My message this morning from the Oracle.
the thousand shadows recall life
slipping through time–
an ache sun-stormed by never
sleep sings about sealight
and the whispering goddesses
of forest-blue moondreams
we swim the music of why
like wind-stilled water
searching for the mothership
My message today from the Oracle. I’ve been thinking a lot about time. It gets more confusing every day.
each moment is filled
with more asking
if never comes,
will we find out
where we belong?
in dreams
spirit dances between
language and music–
stars growing wings
inside your heart
The Oracle also seems attuned to the collage book I’ve been working on lately.
The Oracle provided an antidote to another gloomy rain-snowy day
we are born
listening without words
to rhythms we cannot see
the voice of the universe is magic–
a long embrace
sailing on a wild eternity
of windows–
always opening to reveal
a star-dazzled sky
Laura at dVerse provided lists of word-threesomes to choose from to write a sequence of three poems. Sun, moon, earth jumped out at me and the Oracle seemed the right place to go to construct verse using those three words.
1
ask the sun
if dusk feels as full
as the dawn
2
ask the moon
if dark is as deep
as always
3
ask the earth
if between grows roots
with seedsong
Even though paint, tint and grey do not exist in the Oracle tiles, those were words that I kept seeing this morning. After I figured out how to make them, the rest of the words fell into place.
When I was looking for art, I came across the above drawing, misfiled among some old collages. It seemed just right, and I went looking for the right folder, which contains a series of landscapes I did inspired by some landscapes I had seen by Georg Baselitz, which had black lines and spare use of color. The one above is colored pencil on an ink marker drawing I did as one of my original black and white ideas. That uncolored drawing is below.
Later on I painted the landscape without black lines, in gouache (the top landscape). I thought this sequence, backwards, contained the feeling in the Oracle’s words today.
the black-tinted shadow
of sleep
paints an ache
swimming through the whisper
of stilled sunlight
a grey language lies
beneath the early sky
as a raw mist plays
with the bare bones of time
you say less and less
Another enigmatic message from the Oracle. But she always wants us to remember to let others know that they are not alone.
let time make a world
out of stars
listen as if wings
were opening to receive
the music of skyrivers
dreaming through your heart
fill each song
with between and always
here–
take my hand
I was looking at the High Priestess yesterday, which I have hanging in my office, and thinking about the strange journeys I’m taking in my dreams lately. Of course, the Oracle sees all.
water sings of how
the goddess ship shines
through the seashadow
of the moon
the language of sleep
swims beneath the skin
of time–
recalling mothermusic
in wind-whispered light
My message from the Oracle. It made me think of two collages (based on a painting by Ilya Repin) I did for one of Jane’s long-ago prompts, but when I went searching I could only find one of them.
can you bring stars
to awaken my ghosts
into the eye of morning?
I am longing for magic sails
to open me out from myself
like a window of liquid time
so I can remember how the ocean
became unbroken—a healing breath
reborn—surrounded by salty air
The Oracle’s message today called for the birdlings.
between night
and the hour that fills
the spirit
with wingsong,
be as if joined together–
skydancing the light
My message this morning from the Oracle. I woke once again to clouds, but the sun is shining now.
spring winters
deep beneath the riverpath–
a dark season
thicker than dusk
did you fall moonwandering
into the long night?
or were you too bird-rooted
and windwild to see? that
earth also breathes light–
full of treesong, growing in-between
The art is from NaPoWriMo 2018, when all my accompanying artwork was inspired by painter Joan Mitchell. I haven’t thought that far ahead this year; this April, I’ll just be visiting the archives for art I think.
K. 