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.
but there is always another side– the one that is in our face seems real because we see it—the details, the form of its existence– but what of the side we do not see, what of the one that looks in a different direction? the one not evident, not the same? the one we must be careful not to leave behind?
As usual, Brendan at earthweal gave me a lot to think about in this week’s challenge post. His question–What does it meant to be open, unbounded, united and free in an enclosed world?–made me immediately think of this verse Woody Guthrie wrote in “This Land is Your Land”.
As I went walking I saw a sign there And on the sign it said “No Trespassing” But on the other side it didn’t say nothing That side was made for you and me
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.
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
trees sing of always and birds climb winter wind into this wandering moonlit dawn