Last night I had a vivid dream about bridges. Consulting the Oracle this morning, I was able to form the word bridge in both the Poet and Geek kits, giving me two sides of the coin–a question and an answer.
1 which star streams the galactic code to open this bridge through light into completion?
2 blue bridge sails ghoststars of skybreath– opening holes in the haunted ocean of remembering– a fool’s magic embrace of time
Hozier’s version of this often-covered song captures most closely the atmosphere of my dream.
My poem, “The Healing of Emptiness” is posted on The Ekphrastic Review today, immediately following Jane Dougherty’s luminous “Horse Dreams”, acting almost like a coda to the ruminations of her protagonist’s mind. The inspirational art is Franz Marc’s Tower of Blue Horses. You can read all the selections here.
My thanks once again to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for supporting my work and the interaction between the visual and written arts.
one morning you wake up and the reasons for everything are gone
the sky has already fallen and the wind changes direction continuously—the trees wave wildly as they try to keep their roots grounded, hold tight to their branches and seeds and leaves
the birds have long ago disappeared into the expanse of nowhere that used to be a horizon not even a line anymore but bottomed out down and far beyond away
you appeal to all spirits any spirit listening asking for some small sign that things will return to a state of understanding
slow down at least and give you time to adjust—to what? what is left of any configuration? will it be improved by changing the velocity?
nothing is sensible or even nonsensical
you yourself appear only dimly in the mirror– perhaps even your bones have taken leave and only your thoughts remain
invisible mad beside themselves alone
In July and August I wrote a series of poems inspired by M.L. Smoker’s poem “Mercy”. As I’ve been having trouble writing anything new, I decided to revisit them, and I’ve been worrying this one, #4, all week. I’m not exactly sure it fits the Earthweal challenge this week of a haunted wilderness, but it’s in the spirit.
“Everybody’s crying mercy when they don’t know the meaning of the word.” –Mose Allison
“Mercy” is not available online, but you can read about M.L. Smoker, and read some of her other works, here.
it’s easy to say no—but what does that word really mean, exactly?—“not now”?—“never”?– “I don’t understand”?—
“I don’t want to deal with it”?—what lies between the letters, the sounds hard and long? if you take away the n
what is left?– only a surprise, a sense of wonder—worlds filled with possibility– the magic of ”o!”
The Kick-About prompt this week features a photo of the Cottingley fairies, above, taken by two girls in England in 1917. Looking at the photo from the vantage point of digital manipulation in 2020, it’s easy to laugh at the fact that anyone could have actually believed that they were “real”. And yet…
shining golden between
floods of cleansing and sorrow
shining silver under
the full stillness of the moon
shining through the dark
with a universe of welcoming
and every word she said
was filled with grace
and every sound that lifted
her voice was mercy
and every feather
was transformation
glittering like stars on
the outline of her embrace
When I saw the dVerse prompt this morning, I could see the hand of the Oracle. I had just written the above poem the night before. Although I usually use the magnetic tiles to consult with her, these very vatic words, which certainly did not come from the planning of my conscious mind, had all the elements of her voice.
The image provided not only seemed to mirror my words, but reminded me of some of my art from the archive, rorschach paintings that also come out of the unplanned intersection of paint and surprise.
I wasn’t sure how I would approach posting these words, but here was the opening. Thanks Jade!
The shadows follow my intersections with the moonlight as I move the ground with my feet. I am not thinking of who I am or where I might be going.
Cocooned in myself I walk alone, yet I remain threaded to the aliveness of what passes me by. I cross paths and spiral through scattered clouds, patterned in parallel with the shining dark sky.
who
enters this
circle of night?
More moon meditations for Frank Tassone’s haibun prompt at dVerse.
I posted my original painting on memadtwo with the Oracle’s meditation on Ruth Bader Ginsburg. I was dissatisfied with it and intensified the dark for the painting above. I had written the poem at that time as well (even though I was offline), and it complements the Oracle’s words I think.
The crescent moon circle was taken from one of my photos, but I think I should have glued it down. A small task I will get to soon.
Also sending good wishes to Sue as she deals with a serious illness.
For Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday where the theme, chosen by Franci Hoffman, is the night sky. I did not get to the beach this year, but I’m remembering the magic of past summer nights by the ocean.
