The Hanged One

and after?

emerging from fire and flood
not with wings, risen from ashes,
but immersed in suspended time–
inside out upside down

to reverse is not to return

to surrender is not to admit defeat

to be still is not to remain forever bound

Sarah at dVerse has given us the word ash for our quadrille this week. The story she told of Odin hanging from the World Tree to gain wisdom made me think of The Hanged Man card from the tarot. I’ve seen it referred to as The Hanged One in several places, and I like that name better.

Continuing my series of tarot inspired collages using Egyptian figures, I put this together quickly, using a funerary figure and the doorway the dead are said to walk through. I usually spend days doing them, so I’m sure it will end up being revised since I’m not quite satisfied with it.

of feather and stone

rock high against
the firmament
stone smooth
against the palm–
what wishes are veined
inside each heart?
which dreams skim
the surface in currents
riding wings that touch
both earth and sky?
who can draw the line
between what is
and what might be?

Jane’s recent poems mentioning kestrels reminded me of this strange collage I made awhile ago from a kestrel painting and a brush drawn portrait, neither of which satisfied me.

It was inspired by Ethiopian healing scrolls, which contain both words and talismanic images, although except for the square face in the center, it doesn’t resemble any of the images in the scrolls. I still don’t know what to make of the collage, but now I, too, have attached words to it.

A quadrille for dVerse, where De has provided us with the word stone.

(re) corded

weaving light
waves that cross over
in curved lines,
waves that land
inside the pause of the edge,
waves that linger cusped–

a small piece
of time, and yet it
fills me up–
I balance,
holding on to tides synapsed
between spells and signs

Punu Ngura (Country with trees) 4, 2019 by Peter Mungkuri ...

Peter Mungkuri’s “Country with Trees”, above, is the current Kick-About prompt. The layering of the different elements got me thinking about an idea from Claudia McGill that I had copied and saved which I recently found when sorting out files.

She took a magazine and tore pages partially out to create a new layered collage-like image. I did not have any magazines with trees, but I have lots of surfing magazines I bought on eBay because they are full of images of sea and sky to use in collage. So I layered the ocean.

My poem is a shadorma quadrille for dVerse, using the word provided by Linda, linger.

somehow the blank piece of paper becomes something else

my hands drawn
into lines—tensely
furtively from fear, riddled
with hesitation

beginning again
disguised by repetiton
over and over

and yet not
the same these motions
these attempts
to capture
a moment streaming tracing
the outlines of time

I’ve used the image from National Geographic provided by De at dVerse as inspiration for my watercolor/quadrille using the word stream.

Also linking to earthweal, where Sarah discuss the harvest festival of Lammas and asked us to think about how we harvest and transform in our own lives.


What abides
contains emptiness
waiting for
what cannot
return.  What abides remains
forever unfilled.

What abides
is quintessence—the
of a way
of being—the exchange
of rudimentals.

What abides
contains entire lives
and apart–
more than a remembering–
opened held nowhere.

A quadrille for dVerse, where Jade has given us the word abide.


does what I construct
from what I see
fit the idea
of me?

can I be mirrored
repeated copied

contained in reflection–
momentary glimpses–
light entering

translating possibility
into something visible,

always an after
to an image as
elusive as

For both of this week’s dVerse prompts, from Mish (eye) and De (quadrille of possibilty).

There was a time when I did many many eye collages, and the illustrations here are from about seven years (and many lifetimes) ago. These are both good prompts, and I still have some ideas…

wake up

I needed
herbal tea and drank
lemon ginger—aromas
filled the afternoon

this morning my head
pounded with
caffeine—I had neglected
to include coffee

I needed
to smell the coffee
pot brewing–
the cup–cravings satisfied–
snug, reblanketed

I wrote two blanket poems yesterday–one was depressing and the other too enigmatic, to put it kindly. This poem came to me spontaneously this morning as I waited for my caffeine to brew–along with a drawing to help the time pass more quickly.

A quadrille for dVerse, where Merril has given us the word blanket