moonshot

focus on the wheel–
bright star calls for the moonshot
embellished with birds

Sanaa at dVerse introduced us to minimalist photography and Glenn A. Buttkus’s site “South Sound Minimalist Photos.” She offered 12 photos to choose to respond to, and I chose the one below.

I couldn’t resist consulting with the collage box oracle, and creating a piece of junk mail art on the back of one of the hundreds of flyers I’ve received in the mail for the NYC primary for mayor. I hope you don’t mind my loose interpretation Glenn!

You can see see more of Glenn’s wonderful photos here.

dear moon

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.

Oasis

It’s a robin, I think, as the melody enters my consciousness through the window.  But then it morphs into a litany of birds from cardinal to crow.  There may even have been a frog thrown in for good measure.

I can’t locate the bird to see who is gifting me with its repertoire of local wildlife sounds.  It could be a starling—I once lived in an apartment where the local starlings would sit on the roof railing next door every morning and tell me all they knew.  But there are also plenty of both mockingbirds and catbirds hanging around.

city fades
a sanctuary
feathered skies

A meditation on sanctuary for earthweal. Also linking to dVerse OLN, hosted by MsJadeLi.

My New Window

My new window looks at rooftops architecture trees
and sky.  My new window opens to the continuous city
work of maintenance and construction going from here
to there and back again the voices of cars and dogs
and humans and birds.  My new window is busy.

After dark my new window sparkles with other windows
imprinted on dark silhouettes.  The night sky changes
color and texture from hour to hour and the full moon
wakes me as it shines its reflected secrets into
my dreaming eyes.  My new window is aware.

The NaPoWriMo prompt for today is to write about what you see through a particular window. This one is in the bedroom of my new apartment. I’m so happy I have such a good view of the moon, which has woken me up every clear night for the past week.

fitzcarraldo

sky quilt s

fitzcarraldo n. an image that somehow becomes lodged deep in your brain—maybe washed there by a dream, or smuggled inside a book, or planted during a casual conversation—which then grows into a wild and impractical vision that keeps scrambling back and forth in your head like a dog stuck in a car that’s about to arrive home, just itching for a chance to leap headlong into reality.

that tiny room
the one with the steps to the attic
the one with only bed and dresser

nothing more fits
but the window with the tree
and the sky and the birds

I could leap out that window
like Wendy and the Lost Boys
riding the wind to faraway dreams

I could hide under the covers
with a flashlight and a book
a transistor radio playing

Fly Me to the Moon
I could accompany myself
by singing wishes on stars

on a moon that illuminates all
these yearnings pulsing through
the bloodsongs of my heart

The NaPoWriMo prompt for today was to write a poem inspired by an entry from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. What a wonderful dictionary! I will be visiting it again.

My fitzcarraldo is a bit less intense than Herzog’s…

how to breathe

The Oracle responded immediately to the NaPoWriMo day 17 prompt of the moon. And who could blame her? It’s always a good subject for a poem, in this case, a Badger’s Hexastitch.

moonsongs
treeroot between
the ancient wanderings
of night—follow secret
animal paths
earth deep

Also linking to earthweal open link weekend.

interpolated

some days seem
to go nowhere—hours
surround, merge,
a mass of
waiting—you can feel the weight
on your chest inside

heart slowing
barely breathing your
skin sweating
density
as your body disappears
your mind wandering

caught without
contingency—all
locations
remain un
named, uncalendared, unchecked,
suspended, untimed—

a structure
of vast hidden plans,
dimensions
flattened in
to absence, its contents left
carelessly behind

A shadorma chain for the NaPoWriMo Day 4 prompt, to use as inspiration a photo from @SpaceLiminalBot. I chose the photo above.

Familiar

“The world around us is absolutely mind-blowingly amazing….All you have to do is pay attention. Then the stars come out and they dance with you.”–John Muir Laws

Common you say.  Everyday you say.
and it’s true:  night follows day
follows night.  Many things
form patterns, yet within
the patterns are mysterious
variations, expressions of one
particular momentary intersection
of space and time.  The moon
playing with clouds.  Water
coming in contact with light.
A tree, any tree, in any
season.  Who can forget
an insect’s wing?  Pigeons
swooping in unison between
the roofs of buildings.  Common.
And yet.  But still.  It stops
me.  Looking, listening, wondering.
Every day.

The NaPoWriMo prompt today has a link to an animation of the music of the Sun Ra Arkestra. Sun Ra was in tune with the world’s amazingness, but you don’t need psychedelic imagery to notice it.

Brendan at earthweal asks this week: What is the turning point that gets us out of this labyrinth of fated humanity? Who or what must we embrace? How do we find our way into the Totality?

We could start by just paying attention.

For NaPoWriMo this year I will mostly, if not entirely, be using art from the archives. I am in the pre-panic phase of my move–a little over 2 weeks before the movers come. I may not post every day, but I’ll do my best.

You can also see my art this month at the Ekphrastic Challenge at Wombwell Rainbow. Two other artists, and many wonderful poets, including Merril Smith and Jane Dougherty, are participating.

imagining spring

tree window 3s

We have welcoming blue skies today, although it is cold. But the Oracle, at least, is thinking ahead.

tree window 2s

These photos were taken in March of 2016–March! not that far away–of Central Park, reflected in the windows of the Jewish Museum on Fifth Avenue.

are you dazzled
with green trees oceans
of air and sky

breathe in then out
surrounded by blueborn
mornings that spill
secrets and then

laugh

linking to earthweal open link weekend

winter solstice 2020

the moon reflects–
caught between inside and out
returning the light

For Frank Tassone’s haikai challenge collection, I have chosen #170, Solstice II, December 19th. These are photos I took of the moon, which appeared briefly that night between the buildings. The clouds soon moved in, dashing any hopes of seeing the two planets in conjunction.

What most interested me about the photos was that the half moon appeared most clearly as a reflection caught in the glass of my window. Perhaps that’s all we can really hope to see this year–a mirrored image capturing what fleetingly enters our field of vision if we are lucky enough to be looking that way.