painting

Oscillations

You kept it close,
hidden deep in the forest
of your being.

Spellsounds, the rhythm
that held so much underneath–
what came before, and also
the possibility of entirety
constructed out of something
beyond thought, beyond reasoning–

It became like singing,
a chord that vibrated both
inside and out,
flowing from brain to blood–

It had no source, no need
of one—just this blanket
of aliveness, hungry
for untamed light–
glowing waves of particles
that could neither be
located or contained.

For earthweal, where Brendan asks: How else are we to sing?

I’ve spoken before about how sometimes (usually when meditating), when I’m very still, I can hear the air. I was also thinking about Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle. In the end, we are only, like the rest of the universe, particles and waves.

clarified

morningtide chills,
causes the moment
of wakening to linger–
scattering the vestiges
of dreaming into limbo

where am I?

hidden inside
my longing to stay
covered, warm,
release all
obligations

I shiver

wonder whether
I can reject this
habitual rising
for a protracted
pause

They turn the heat off in my building at night and it doesn’t come on again until 6 am. My alarm goes off at 5:30, and these days it’s very tempting to linger for a half hour or more.

A quadrille for dVerse, where Merril has provided the word shiver.

moondawn

The Oracle is still wandering with the moon.

I usually get up between around 6 am, and I’ve been photographing the sky out my windows, front and back, for a few months now. Last week was only the second time I’ve seen it out the kitchen window at that time.

The very next morning it was out front, to the south, as usual.

between never and spring
roots cycle thick beneath earth

listen

trees sing of always
and birds climb winter wind
into this wandering moonlit dawn

walk here

amidst the deep season
of sacred now

Coiling

My sojourns repeat themselves, going
after relics that never existed, recapturing
the memories of ghosts.  You may ask
why I continue to tolerate a hopeless
cause, finding solace in circles—

I do not know how to define existence,
or the way to measure its boundaries.
I am lost and confused by an absence
that seems to be devouring what
might have become the future.

What can I do but shelter the things
I can’t yet see inside an identity
I do not yet possess?  Soon there will be
nothing left but the letting go. Until
what isn’t there becomes all that remains.

Here is the place I must abide.

For earthweal, where Brendan asks: Working for the best present, this shifting, dysynchronous, pre-apocalyptic now: That is your challenge this week. What does the landscape of this look like where you live and celebrate your being?

sea sky birds

the sea is one song–
a lullaby that changes
tempo and turns into the heart
beating the center
of time itself

skies harmonize–
transitional, painting
beginnings and endings
with refracted light—

clouds weave veils–
remaking themselves,
exchanging threads that
suddenly emerge with
blue clarity

and the birds!—all mystery–
color and music that arrive
when least expected,
to unwrap the world anew,
aright

For earthweal, where Sherry has asked us for poems of gratitude.

Dear Refugees

We have heard
and noted your cries
for help.  Un
fortunate
ly our sovereign borders
are currently closed.

We fear that
we must turn away
from any
images
of drowning, freezing, starving.
They disturb our sleep.

But we are
not completely heart
less.  We will
send you our
Condolences, as well as
our Thoughts and Prayers.

For earthweal, where Sherry, after bringing us up to date on the flooding in her Canadian homeland, asked us to write Verse Letters: a form of address, akin to dramatic monologue, to all parties involved – letters to the lost, perhaps; to those who caused the extinction;  or to those of us who are in the middle.

kinship

to belong
is a feeling–not
words over
heard in pass
ing, but a garment to wear–
it keeps you warm, this

chorus sung
by many voices–
it tells you
how to clear
your self, opening to be
come filled, become found

Sarah at dVerse shared with us once again the paintings of Fay Collins, and asked us to write to what we see in her images. I did not pick any particular landscape, but used the entirety of her work as inspiration for both my words and my watercolor, which reflect her immersion in and love of the earth.

Also linking to earthweal, where Brendan has asked us to praise what matters.

You can see the work of Fay Collins here.