arise to witching hour, the moon eclipsing the sun– in afterlight crow echoes his own call
gathered clouds, a bower of reflected light returned, unwrapping into daylight from its pall
orbits overlapping, crossing time as well as space– a hush that parallels the day’s forestall
twin umbras pause, passing– opposites in brief embrace– Aurora wakes, released to fly withal
Another kerf poem, for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday, where Gwen Plano has provided the words Dawn & Twilight. My apartment doesn’t face east at all, but the eclipsed sunrise felt very different yesterday, veiled and stilled, and the crows had a lot to say about it.
I found this painting/collage the other day–I know I’ve used it before, but I thought it would be useful for something else, so I saved it in my ideas space. When I read the Oracle’s message this morning, it seemed like she knew ahead of time where it belonged.
recall the dreamlight time as a living being shadows shining through the raw sky
did what you thought you never needed show you how
to still the stormcry into moonships singing the language of seaforests?
The prompt for the Kick-About this week is a quote from Murakami’s novel IQ84 where Aomame talks to a cold and silent moon. No one could unlock the heart of the moon, she thinks. She asks the moon some questions: The moon did not answer. But maybe she is only projecting onto the moon a reflection of herself.
keeping her motives to herself, she likes to move beyond the in between
going where after is before all over again
I’m always photographing the moon. I decided to go through my archives and make some postcards from some of my pictures. The results proved to me, once again, that if you take enough photos, some are bound to look good.
I then consulted with the collage box Oracle. The Oracle knows the moon well.
what time is it inside your dreams? step through, not around– inside the journey is your destination– no other place but right now
I didn’t plan it that way, but the sequence of photographic messages from the Oracle were easily constructed into a series of Japanese-style poems.
flow into the light by exploring the patterns of the universe
You can’t just ask questions; you also need to keep listening for the reply.
Red is an imaginary carpet dancing with desire, lettering the days with roses and birdwings. Red is the sky that turns the morning into an omen, the night into a full moon– catching dreams like a wayfaring balloon painting the town with stars.
The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write a poem that delves into the meaning of your first or last name. Roig means red in Catalan.