I expected something much darker from the Oracle this morning but she knows I’ve been watching the moon.
be full of this
always moon
never let dawn
fall through air unwalked
every path comes and leaves
between earthlight songs–
deep ancient nights rooted in following
the seasons of birdgrown afterdays
ask why and
if
Photos taken from midnight to this morning.
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.
It’s not October, but we can still dance.
I fold my
questions into cranes
and send them
flying on
the wind—what hands will catch them,
pull them down, greet them,
unjumble
and complete their dreams?
wide, deep, clear,
cast to sky,
they celebrate–streams of stars
danced in waves of moon
A shadorma quadrille for Merril’s prompt of celebration at dVerse. I also used the words she generated from Oracle II. Above is the almost-full moon shining through my window last night.
The Oracle knows where to look and how to listen.
we are all sailing
the same starry skies
in ghostflower oceans of eternity
ask how breath heals
the broken rhythm of the heart
remember to listen
to the foolish magic of children
lingering in this long night–
as if life is born again
dancing awake each morning
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.
The moon was misty last week too.
where am I going?
dawn breaks slowly dense and grey–
blue jays are calling
It’s International Haiku Poetry Day.
after the bitter blows
storms of blood rain
we whisper please
but death does not reply
the sun rose as if dreamed
the moon still inside the sky
This message from the Oracle recalled the Dylan song One Too Many Mornings (and a thousand miles behind). Sometimes it feels like that’s where we’re stuck right now.
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
K. 