you are caught
in the waning light–
mythical and undisclosed—
you are nowhere–
not down, not up–
you are not returning
soon, ever, or again–
A quadrille for dVerse considering the word steep.
My bones are
white under my skin
not bleached or hard–) and yet you
answer by asking
words, invoking crow–
once white too)–bearing omens,
consumed by riddles.
How far will,
then what?—the black bird,
unfeathered above waters
that drown the questions,
Spinning children of
the same skin–)
What light lays bare,
its absence enshrouds.
My poem “Landing on the Other Side” is included in The Ekphrastic Review’s Franz Kline Challenge responses. Kline’s painting is above. My thanks to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for once again featuring my work.
The Wonder Bread factory in Paterson. When they baked you could smell the aroma across town. Schools used to tour the factory and they’d give you a mini loaf.
The ProCreate version. Printed out on paper and messed with.
Girl playing the guitar on ProCreate and then printed and messed with. That is a pretty good replacement right now for now having a spot to paint.
“Days full of rain, sky’s comin’ down again
I get so tired of these same old blues, same old song
baby, it won’t be long ‘fore I be tyin’ on
my flyin’ shoes, flyin’ shoes
till I be tyin’ on my flyin’ shoes”
–Townes Van Zandt
The leaves of autumn linger in my mind,
disturbing the returning of the sun.
I thought my time of shedding skin was done.
Instead I crumble, fragile, in the wind
that blocks the way before I can begin.
The threads I gathered turn away unspun–
the landscape ebbs, and with it shelter—one
by one the seasons falter, fall behind.
If only I could tie myself to stars
and rise, my surface shining like the moon,
my sails like wings that shimmer in the sky–
I’d find a motherland in my guitar,
that I could voice with harmony and song–
a refuge where my dreams could wake and fly.
I was listening to Lyle Lovett’s 2-CD salute to Texas songwriters, “Step Inside This House”, which includes so much wonderful music including four songs from Townes Van Zandt. There is a mystery and a melancholy to all of his music, and “Flyin’ Shoes” has always been a favorite of mine. Townes died in 1997 at age 52 after years of substance abuse and mental health problems. I hope he’s got those shoes tied on tight.
I wanted to try another sonnet for the dVerse challenge this month. This one uses the Petrarchan form, which has a very different rhythm from the Shakespearean. I’m still reading my way through everyone’s sonnets, but I want to thank dVerse for providing such a good forum to explore this poetic form. I’ve learned a lot from not only my own attempts at writing, but from seeing the variety of responses.
I also used the Secret Keeper’s prompt words,
LEAF | HOME | ALTER | LIGHT | FRONT
And here’s Lyle.
Fooling around more with ProCreate. This one I did, printed it out in color and drew over it.
A sketch of some dancers out on a lawn.
A cold but welcome weekend here in Northern NJ. And as a bonus the sun is shining–always good.
The end is
the unrelenting blueness
with crystal cold
to sheer form, chanting
ancient songs of Boreas–
fabrications floating on
seas of sinking air
notes of silence pitched
holes with each unspoken word,
transform, to be borne
the years spin,
A poetic response to the January prompt at Myths of the Mirror, above. Somehow working in blues always leads me to stitching…in this case I painted two circles and cut the smaller one up and stitched it on top of the larger one.
Also linking to dVerse Open Link Night.
Yesterday’s drawing colored in. I guess it’s why coloring books were invented.
Quick landscape (for Kerfe) in calligraphy pen, colored pencil and other stuff at hand. I’m still not set up to paint and I’m a bit frustrated. But sketching, especially if I can manage it every day, will give me painting material when I am set up!
Sketch just in calligraphy pen.
Pouring rain here in NJ, dog looking balefully at me. I’m not walking him right now. Peace out!
I started doodling with a ballpoint pen. I know artists have done some great drawings with ballpoints. Red tailed hawks are always a good subject.
Then I tried my calligraphy pen. I just got back into that due to doing a coworker’s wedding invitations. I was scratching around trying to get it to work; it finally did and I drew over/around/through it.
Doodle in fine line felt tip.
I still don’t have a painting spot set up. We’re shuffling things around in the house. I know I could theoretically paint at the kitchen table. Anyway, may put some color(ed pencil) on these.
Its light spills out from everywhere—the moon–
a lantern in the sky, a mirrored sea
projecting the between of tide’s return,
throwing its questions at infinity.
The landscape shimmers, particles on fire–
breathes in, impatient, waiting with the stars
for orbits to conjoin as shadowed blood
that spills out, falling into otherwise.
Bewitched by moon beams, pushing into pull,
the spirits of the night become themselves–
a coiled diffusion standing in two worlds,
a melody that casts the wind with spells.
Transparent on the air, invisible–
the ancient shores of galaxies still call.
DVerse is featuring the sonnet form this month. I always have difficulty with sonnets , which is why it’s taken me so long to compose even one.
The clouds cooperated and gave me a chance to see the magical moon last night. It’s beautiful this evening, too, and equally enchanting.