Lost worlds are hidden everywhere–
enchanted, mythic, spelled–
in rivers earth rocks trees and air,
lost worlds are hidden everywhere–
between each breath of silent prayer
a stillness listening, lightly held–
lost worlds are hidden everywhere–
enchanted, mythic, spelled.

A triolet for the NaPoWriMo prompt, inspired by the painting, above, that I found recently in my art archive. I’m sure I did it for one of Sue Vincent’s photo prompts. Sue knew all about portals.


I had a long and complicated dream about Sue Vincent last night. I’m still trying to disentangle and figure it out. But the Oracle always knows what’s on my mind. After I visited Her, I looked for some art I had done for one of Sue’s prompts to accompany it. I knew immediately this was the one to use.

the rain do dreams
swim on light?  is that how
moon music recalls the language
of sea shadows

the blue of
darkness is
a blank canvas

from translucent music
the shadow
of hope

moonbird rising
the center of deep


I woke up this morning thinking of Sue Vincent. The words the Oracle gave me reflect that. She must have been in my dream, although all I remember is the ending which had snow and bright yellow dogs.

The art I was drawn to when looking through the archives for something to illustrate the words was also done for Sue’s prompts.

almost like light
this dusky song
a gentle color

of secret sound
murmured by roots and rain

how to follow
through beneath beside

ask the ancient path
to walk with you


My ancestors linger in every word I say,
the muted phrases and images that occupy
the dreams in the sequestered corners of my mind,
hesitating between darkness and light of day

My ancestors linger in the prayers left behind,
unexpected melodies, songs upon the wind
opening windows into transformed cloistered spheres,
a fracturing of landscapes, the earth unconfined

My ancestors linger as seas on summer air,
as darkness covering the winter of the year,
as harvests of colors released by autumn’s trees,
as cells that stir when spring awakens, reappears

I wrote this rubaiyat in 2019 for one of Sue Vincent’s photo prompts, above. It’s a year today she is gone. Looking back through all the art and poetry I did in response to her prompts, it’s clearly evident how much her spirit enlarged my work.

In my original post I wrote: I was repeating one of my grandmother’s sayings to myself, which made me think of all the ways I repeat and echo the members of my family. Probably in ways I don’t even realize, and further afield than I will ever understand.

Which flows right into the earthweal prompt, where Brendan has asked us to “write about what we care for and resemble, remembering that everything in the forest is the forest.


The mask is mute—it does not
tell what lies beneath–
layers falling backward, a
way from the present–
unglued, it rearranges,
becomes paper becomes
scissors cutting through the air–
thought stilled before form

Continuing my mask theme, three collage masks inspired by Matisse cut-outs that I did for the Kick About a few weeks ago. In my poem I was thinking about a film I saw of Matisse at work.

I’ve been working with masks for a long time in many different media. These are inspired by Mexican Devil masks as well as by Matisse.

Austin Kleon has a great post about masking with some excellent quotes that you can read here. It’s a mode of expression I’m sure I’ll always continue to explore.

Here’s another devil mask and a shovel poem I did for a Sue Vincent photo prompt in 2017. Thanks again, Sue, for all your inspiration.

the door is always open s

“…that what you fear the most/could meet you halfway…” –Victoria Williams, “Crazy Mary”

The horns that
make you.  Tell me what
endures:  you,
masked with fear,
burning life to ashes, the
ender?  Or the most
wild transformation that could
be?  We meet
face to face.  But you
pause.  Halfway.

Also linking up with dVerse OLN, hosted by Linda.

Saying Grace (for Sue Vincent)

Not a body or voice–
something is listening,
filling me with prescience,
nourishment, shelter, rest,
warmth, an embrace.  Time and
space have no horizons.

Who knows what is
or beyond—singing
in parallel time?
And where am I?
I can’t comprehend,

can’t contain this feeling–
it is always spilling
out and then refilling
with gratitude–I just
let silence reflect me,
imprinted on the land

Thanks Sue.


KL Caley is continuing Sue Vincent’s #writephoto, beginning with Sue’s original photo, below. I came to Sue’s photo prompts later, so this is my first response to the image. It being Saturday, after I painted my watercolors, I asked the Oracle to help with my poem. We know she has Sue on her mind, as all of us who have been touched by her do.

come through
this between wind
shaded in green light

breathe deep the spirit earth
beneath stonesongs
of pure listening

ask to follow rootpaths
as they seed birdgardens

rest full and true

feel the ancient how
of to be

beyond dawn

I was thinking about the painting I did yesterday when I consulted the Oracle this morning. A shadorma for Colleen’s #tankatuesday. Sue Vincent provided the inspiration with her haiku, below.

clouds cover the moon,
beyond dawn’s pale horizon
sun rises unseen

haiku ©2020 Sue Vincent

sky of still
water—open me
to borning,
this healing
breath that listens to stars be
tween morning and night

Blogger Recognition Award


Sue Vincent recently honored me with a recognition award on her blog, and I wanted to acknowledge and thank her both for the mention and the support and inspiration she provides to me and the all those in her community.  I don’t remember how I first connected to her blog, but her weekly photo prompts have become an important part of my creative process.

How did my blog start?  My friend Nina and I, who worked together for a textile company in the 1970s, were trying to encourage each other to get back to making art.  Emailing back and forth wasn’t working too well, so we decided to start a blog to post what we were doing and comment to each other.  That was in 2014.  When Nina told me we had acquired followers I was surprised, and we both started looking around at what others were doing on WordPress.  It seems like connections rose organically–I don’t remember exactly how I “met” most of the people I interact with regularly now, although I do remember early on that Marcy Erb, who blogged on Illustrated Poetry, asked me to illustrate a poem for her, which certainly started me thinking about combining words and images.

This year Nina decided to take an extended break from MethodTwoMadness, and not wanting to do our joint venture by myself, I started kblog as a place to post until she gets back, keeping MeMadTwo going with the monthly draw-a-bird day.

I would definitely not be doing the work I’m doing now without the interactions I have with both artists and writers on WordPress.

My advice to new bloggers is the same as has been given by many others:  build relationships, comment and reply to comments, and visit other blogs.  Be open to things outside your comfort zone–I would have never predicted I would be not only both writing and doing art, but combining them in ways that weren’t even in my consciousness 5 years ago.  Prompts are a good way both to spur creativity and see how different people approach the same subject.  I’ve learned a lot from doing them.

The art at the top of this post was done for a call for calendar art (from an old calendar, not this year’s).  It was rejected (expect that with great frequency if you send your work out for exhibit or publication), which gives me the opportunity to use it for this December as we move from dark days to ones with more light.  I’m taking a blog break for the rest of the year, but I’ll be back in 2020.  And hopefully Nina will too.

Happy New Year to all, and thanks Sue!