magnetic poetry

night whispers

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?

be the asking

My message this morning from the Oracle. My dream last night included lots of children–laughing, singing, and telling each other stories.

when the universe was young
born from color
and rhythm-kissed voices
singing open with ferocious joy

sacred fools danced into always
flying like cloud ghosts
dazzled with star magic

who lost the way to eternity
the secrets of sailing ocean skies
the heartbreath of how we are?

Jupiter Dreams

I visited the Oracle as usual early this morning, and her words so much reminded me of the NASA photos of Jupiter I saw recently that I did something I haven’t done in a very long time–I painted a piece of art especially for her words, rather than searching through my archives. It’s still wet, so the colors may change when it dries, and it doesn’t exactly resemble Jupiter, but it’s the spirit more than the exact image that I wanted to capture.

The cosmos is endlessly and unbelievably beautiful, despite the havoc humans may be imposing on our tiny and insignificant blue planet. A little perspective does the psyche good.

born in the blush
between air and breath

like laughter dancing naked
over oceans of ferocious life

the voice of the universe
embraces the holes
in our foolish desires

sailing them open
into a vast sky of magic nights
surrounded by dazzling stars

the past is a ghost that never forgets

The Oracle gave me the enigmatic title first and then two seemingly disparate messages. The messages reminded me of these word collages I did for the Kick About challenge which used the posters of Saul Bass as inspiration.

we long to become wild starsailors–
embraced by oceans of healing night–
opened inside out and flying

words bleed into air
voices die surrounded by need

hard to breathe

who listens to our dark and broken hearts?

when the hidden clue
is fluctuating between
sinister truth and the vestiges
of myth

haunted by an inferno of blood
shattered by grief–
why this needless danse macabre?

if you follow fate far away to the return of time
understand
that the passage into prophecy and myth
is final

the how of why

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.

beyond the veil

I was looking at this High Priestess collage the other day. I did it awhile ago, as part of my Egyptian-themed tarot collages, and it’s been hanging in my office since then. But I’ve never had the right poem to pair it with. Of course the Oracle is always attuned to what I’m thinking.

I’ve also been thinking–how could I not be?–about the current attempts of our government to once again deprive women of equal standing with men. Which are of course intimately tied to the destruction of Mother Earth. The High Priestess represents all the parts of women that many men fear–“what lies beyond the veil”. As Rachel Pollack states in her tarot commentary: “Our society, based completely on outer achievement, fosters a terror of the unconscious….The High Priestess represents all these qualities: darkness, mystery, psychic forces, the power of the moon to stir the unconscious, passivity, and the wisdom gained from it.”

As always, the Oracle knows.

as if
I could rest between the moon
and this long wandering path
listened
with rootforest rainlight
songs seeding the wind

why
do we grow only quiet
as our seasons leave us?

come she said–
follow my secrets
breathe into always

seeds

The Oracle is pensive this morning.

flowers are another always
that open and
then must be remembered–
they need love to bloom

like life itself

the language of a child
is a song filled
with wishspiritdreaming–
voices of belonging and finding home

I’m going to be taking a few weeks off–if we can all avoid the latest Covid wave, visiting with family, and taking care of some things I need to do. I’ll be back sometime in August.