the sign said catch me if you can— I inquired as to who or what, but the Universe declined to answer
instead of illuminating, it withdrew– tangled, cleft– its secrets woven into labyrinthine curves
it looked like a portal—but it was only a loophole– false passage, another de lusion full of knots
For dVerse OLN, hosted by Grace, where I’ve finally gotten around to using Jane’s Random Words for the week.. I’ve also finally produced a poem with the word “loophole” which I told Sun I was going to do months ago…
and what if you grew roots, awakened spirit, became treebound– your blood flowing glorious amidst sapwood– your body suddenly magnificent, unhewn— your arms branching toward the sun, Familiar to birds, ancient, floating on the breath of wings– your heartwood trembling, weightless, awash in light?
A quadrille for dVerse, where De has given us the word wing, and for earthweal, where Sherry has asked us to speak for the trees. I’ve also used Jane’s Oracle 2 words as inspiration.
listing waves of change– immense confused unwell– a bitter solitude– fretful shapeless still
wilderness estranged– damaged undazzled quelled reversed and left unmoored– a landscape murdered killed
misunderstood deranged hypnotic words cast spells– a whispered mania– the mind unravels, spills
connection broken frayed– once Paradise, now Hell
Bjorn at dVerse gave us the challenge of writing a bref double poem. I had a lot of trouble with the rhythm of this form, a dissatisfaction that I could only resolve by making the b and c rhymes similar.
The river has songs to fill every season. I turn with the circles, swimming the wind that chases the water, bending around the curves, following the changes in tempo and depth, bound to the ripples that radiate from every slight disturbance of the surface. Looking for the most efficient path.
I construct imaginary boats and then dismantle them, leaving the remains dashed and forgotten on the farthest shores. The river continues, reflecting the sky’s transformations, a window opening into the changing light.
Stilled, I try to capture the current as it passes by, to fill my pockets with the riddles it holds inside its voice, all the wisdom gathered from its ancient repeated journeys. I want to be cleansed of all the outside forces that try to bind me, to find again the center hidden somewhere inside that keeps escaping my grasp. But I am too far, too long, too hindered by my own noise. I have lost the lines and the point of the contents of my brain.
Let it go the river sings.
Not anything. But. And this too. What seems. To be. There. You are.
Brendan’s challenge prompt of rivers at earthweal brought to mind another recent post, consecration, that featured John Haitt’s title song as it’s coda. It, too, included the weekly words from Jane’s Oracle 2 generator.
And of course I can never have too much of John Haitt’s song.
but there is always another side– the one that is in our face seems real because we see it—the details, the form of its existence– but what of the side we do not see, what of the one that looks in a different direction? the one not evident, not the same? the one we must be careful not to leave behind?
As usual, Brendan at earthweal gave me a lot to think about in this week’s challenge post. His question–What does it meant to be open, unbounded, united and free in an enclosed world?–made me immediately think of this verse Woody Guthrie wrote in “This Land is Your Land”.
As I went walking I saw a sign there And on the sign it said “No Trespassing” But on the other side it didn’t say nothing That side was made for you and me
the glass falls shattered by the wind the water rises to the trees the heavens cry that we have sinned approach the ending on your knees
the water rises to the trees the air in spirals bends the sky approach the ending on your knees you’ve passed the time for asking why
the air in spirals bends the sky a wild revolving cosmic hole you’ve passed the time for asking why you must surrender all control
A wild revolving cosmic hole the heavens cry that we have sinned you must surrender all control– the glass falls shattered by the wind
In his discussion this week at earthweal of extremes, Brendan specifically mentions unrelenting storms and hurricanes as part of the new weather patterns brought on by climate change. When I looked up the damage and death from hurricanes in The United States and the Caribbean the last 50 years, since Agnes in 1972, it was hard not to be stunned by the continued lackadaisical response of our government to the obvious magnification of severe weather. Band-aids for situations that require surgery.