shrouded

The Oracle gave me the first two stanzas of this one right away, but I had to work for the last two. I really wanted to use “secrets” but she was having no part of it. There are too many secrets floating around already.

every after walks through
the long dark between

who can we ask
if always becomes lost?

when will these deep paths of why
grow roots that follow light?

beneath nightsongs of a wandering moon
we listen to nothing—ancient and wild

Another old collage done for one of Sue Vincent’s prompts.

Cohen wrote this song in 1992.

barren

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.

After the Deluge

The Oracle gave me five lines of a shadorma and multiple endings, all leading in the same direction. There is no resting place right now in the world created (and, increasingly, destroyed) by homo sapiens.

if life clouds
you with lonely whys,
rest between
the roots of
earth, breathing green spiritsong–
follow treepaths–walk
winter into spring–
listen to ancient
stones—wander with wind

always more why

This is my third try with the Oracle this morning. She was having no parts of anything but reality.

beneath here
the shadow waits–
whispers ache with pleading blood–

who can dream the black sky
into moonlight,
turn this time from its mad
worship of death?

our ship rocks through sleepless seas,
asking why the wind sings
only with the bitter tongues of hate

almost

The first part of this one went quickly, but the Oracle made me work for the last 2 lines. Only when I decided to see if I could make the word “illusions” would She let me complete it. “Life is but a dream” or so they say.

sleep whispers
in tongues of blue mist–
as if moons
seadream light
though shadows above still water–
illusions of time