I am aged, but still raw, uncooked, unfinished. I steep myself in cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, preparing for winter. But still I fail to render more than a rough uncertain embodiment of what will satiate my continued thirst. For what? With what mural of flavor do I wish to paint the days, the seasons, the years?
I never expected to find the perfect recipe—only to be somewhat clarified. Not cured, but blended into the essences of a Tuscan sunset, infused with the richness of the bouquet of approaching night.
waiting for the moon– new, it opens the cosmos– full, it whispers “time”
A haibun for Merril’s dVerse prompt of spices. The grids are from a 100-day project I did in 2015 combining colors and grids. In my final post for the project, I included some quotes from poet Sara C. Harwell. This one seems eerily prescient of what I wrote today.
It looks like a painting by someone I can’t remember. How have I reached the point, is it age? When the sky resembles a painting more than the sky?
If I could see horizon’s light at first dawn, Venus would greet me shining up the rising sun. But I live in darkness, almost-full moon suffused with secrets, luminous, surprising me–reflecting through my window, later, soon– casting shadowed leaves that shift, mesmerizing, absorbed in Van Morrison’s musical dance– hazy as to borderlines, transformed, entranced. Perhaps Diana orbits inside my dreams– I almost catch her in the wavering beams– and following the fragments, drift—caught between.
An eleventh power poem for the prompt offered by Grace for the dVerse 11th anniversary celebration, also in answer to this week’s W3 challenge, a response to Steven S. Wallace and his poem “Oh Luna” that contains three proper nouns.
moon appears as reflection– sun mirrored into night but brighter, closer
and how far is far away?– forever, sometimes, as if never were always the answer to the question of when
third eye digs deeper, dreamclosing the distance, the interval between asleep and wings
It was cloudy when the moon was eclipsing last night, but later on it cleared into mist, and woke me up, as it is wont to do–the top photo is how it looked through my bedroom window about 3am. And above is a close up. The mist allowed me to get some detail–when it’s very clear all that shows up in photos is an intense light.
A quadrille using the word sleep for Sarah at dVerse. I’ve borrowed the dual title idea from David at The Skeptic’s Kaddish–I ran across the word avigation (it means aerial navigation) recently, and I’ve been wanting to use it for something ever since.