the chorus of everywhere

tree 2

“Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth.”
Hermann Hesse

stop making
maps—destinations
are without
meaning—this
journey does not follow roads
to faraway lands

look around
at the familiar
landscape—light,
water, stone,
the patterns of trees joining
wings to earth and sky

listen to
the stillness of no
time—listen–
suspend all
expectations—what you need
is already here

tree 2 close up s

For Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday, a shadorma chain inspired by a quote from Hermann Hesse, selected by Sue Vincent.

tree 1s

reversal

reversal 3s

to recur,
move further away–
becoming
mote covered
constellated skies, stories
embroidered in blue

darkness fades
into emergence–
the tides of
return shaped
by manifestations of
ghost ships left unsailed

indigo
currents bridged between
symbol and
spirit—each
helix twisted round itself–
doubled, multiplied

reversal 2s

For dVerse, a blue quadrille, hosted by Kim.  The art is composed of two different painting experiments that accidentally fell on top of each other–I photographed them in a bunch of different ways, and added the blue with Photoshop.

reversal 1s

among the purple heather

among the purple s

solitude
unwinding beneath
meandering
skies, layers
circling back on themselves, cross
currented by wind–

trees sweep leaves
into shapes–shivered,
spilled over
edges, cast
shadowed with spirits holding
earth connecting air

scattering
blossomed voices—bells
calling words
into breath,
into dances that whisper
sanctuary—“come”

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.

I recently came across a video that talked about asemic writing, and using it as a prompt for extracting poetry from your unintellible scribbles. I decided to use Sue’s photo as a guide for my asemic composition, first using fine point markers in colors that echoed the landscape.  I then freewrote what I thought my marks were trying to say.

among the purple ansemic s

After that I took watercolor pencils, dipped them in water, and wrote asemically again over the markers, blurring both.  I looked at what I had written in my initial response, extracted some of the ideas, and formed them into a shadorma chain to go with the final composition.

among the purple close up s

 

When I saw Sue’s photo, the first thing I thought of was the traditional Scottish song “Wild Mountain Thyme”.  Joan Baez did a famous version, but I think the one I remember most from my youth is by the Byrds.  It’s been covered and reinterpreted by artists as varied as Van Morrison, the Clancy Brothers, and Ed Sheeran.  I listened to a lot of them, but I really like this one by Kate Rusby.

among the purple ansemic close up s

on the sands of time

on the sands s

on the sands of time

A found poem from Longfellow’s “A Psalm of Life”, the theme suggested by Pat R. for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday.  I’ve constructed a shadorma with the help of the Collage Oracle.

“…Lives of great men all remind us
   We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
   Footprints on the sands of time…”

on the sands close up s

be not like
time—fleeting, mournful,
pursuing
fate—within
each bivouac is a dream–
heart sailing the soul

not crows,

not crows s

she said, but
count them, count them and
remember
what has not
yet been dreamed—what follows each
silhouette–

a breath that
removes what is not
required, keeps
what fills need
and refills it whenever
it becomes empty—

spellcast in
air, each wing gathers
force, compressed
like secrets–
talismans numbered and tossed
waiting for the wind

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, and also posted to earthweal open link weekend.

not crows close up s

 

keyhole

sue key s

I do not
know this body—is it
mine?  It does
not obey
the years that hide the past—it
unravels like lies.

It tries to
pretend, believe in
what never
was—always
the wrong age for the face I
imagined, the face

remembered
by the self I thought
secret—now
I stand exposed–
a silhouette seen in the
doorway of the night.

I tried something a little different with my collage for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  I used a generic thank you card I had received in the mail for a donation as a base, and decided to go over the edges and make a kind of diorama with it.

sue key close up s

And then of course it needed a story.

Here is how it looks when laid flat.

sue key flat s

Aurea

fairy tale journey complete s

Durham family mourns death of 8-year-old, first child to die from COVID-19 in North Carolina

After four days at UNC Medical Center in Chapel Hill, Aurea Soto Morales passed away June 1 from complications associated with COVID-19.

I have not
seen angels rising
nor skies fall
ing—the vast
veil that portals heavens to
earth is filled with light,

seasonless,
undivided by
space or time.
I have not
become old here, nor remained
young—all is always.

I know things
I have never seen,
riding waves
that travel the
distances concealed between
never and right now.

Love holds me
with mythical wings,
soaring gold,
scattered with
jewels of azure and night–
I can touch the moon.

grace of light s

Laura, at dVerse, asks us to write about someone who has died, someone we do not know.  “By way of poetic resurrection, we see them live again.”

Aurea as a name for girls has its root in Latin, and the meaning of Aurea is “wind; golden; dawn”

The collage is another of my postcard fictions done for a Jane Dougherty prompt in 2016, which came to my mind after seeing Merril’s Monday Morning Musings photos of light.

latitudes

latitudes a

an infused
world, changing with sky
light weather–
we construct
alternates to confusion,
editing ourselves,

trying to
change the stories, shape
how we fit–
our doors swing
only in and out—not through,
not passing between—

our edges
are meant to divide–
what do we
really see?
surrounded by leeways–who
can control the wind?

A shadorma chain for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.

latitudes close up a