to start,

begin with
Being–the map turned
upside-down–
sky rising,
clear, empty, waiting to be
filled–calling you home

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, “Alone”, above.

 

the verge of truth

the paths forsaken
the words unspoken, hanging
on the verge of truth

I wrote this for the Secret Keeper’s new Haiku Review challenge, but somehow it also seems appropriate for the general climate of the world right now as well…

 

Swallowtail

wings born sailing
on voices of air,
breathing sky and flowers–
heart wild and foolish
with desire

Of course I needed to consult the Oracle today about wings…

bloom for me
with light–
I need music
this morning
to dance wings
like flowers,
spirits soaring
on song

Illustrations are from the portfolio of old art I found.  These are from 1982.  I remember doing a lot more butterflies; perhaps they will turn up somewhere else.

More Wings

Jane Dougherty posted a challenge (via Jerennazuto at itsallaboutnothingg) for a story about lost wings.  I’ve been working on a series of postcard fiction responses to Paul Klee’s angels, and this one seemed to fit the prompt well.

Behind every door,
dreams
of escape–
like a bird on fire,
she was gone–
into the light’s
shadow.

The work of Klee’s I referenced here is titled “Angel in the Making”.

When and If

When

Has all the time gone mad?
Did chanting bring this light?
As dreams shine diamond storms,
drunk forest screams alive.

Red gardens dress the rain,
blue shadows sing and soar.
Moon swims through purple sky–
why sleep when you can roar?

I’m not sure where this came from, any of it.  Perhaps The Oracle had dinner with Timothy Leary this week…

If

Bird is lonely
Earth asks to play
green grass strolls wildly
trees uproot and wander
flowers climb light
world walking through
happy

“When” uses the dVerse Trimeter prompt.  “If” just is.  And the junk mail art collage…?

“People have to go out of their mind before they can come to their senses.”
–Timothy Leary

Patchwork#2

A husband’s work shirt. A daughter’s favorite dress.  A coat worn first by cousins.  The curtains that once caught the air in the kitchen window.

Convergence of scraps
patching together stories
raveled by the past

Lines do not seek verticals or horizontals. Edges founder in imprecision.  Colors speak loudly and urgently.

Each stitch conjures a voice, face,
gesture—a way of being

A bed now comforted with reflection and dreams.

 

I’ve tried another haibun for Colleen’s weekly poetry challenge.  The collage is a piece I found in my old portfolio, dated 1979.  I think it was inspired by seeing the Gee’s Bend quilts.

(where it began)

The flood brings a rainbow
focused in feathers of thought–
fear waits in holding pattern between hands

Water comes, water goes–
energy will dive or float
or dissipate in waves upon the sand

Balance shifts uneasy–
now the steps of down return
rising like pathways finding mountained land

What is seen and not seen–
what is traversed and unlearned–
the finish line looms huge

(where it began)

Inspired by The Secret Keeper’s Writing Prompt #99
| EASY | FLOOD | THOUGHT | FEAR | HUGE |

 

Call and Response: July Landscape

When Nina posted her July landscape, below, she talked about possibly meeting with the Magnetic Poetry Oracle.  I loved her painting so much I did a collage response, and met with the Oracle myself for some poetic commentary, using Colleen’s poetry prompts for this week as well.

wild sanctuary
growing quiet beneath cloud
breezes blossoming

ancient path walks with windsong
wandering through rooted air

We have done a number of these collaborations in the past, but not recently.  I love especially Nina’s landscapes, which always give me a lot of fertile ground for collage.

It’s Saturday!  The Oracle is ready and waiting.

 

Messenger

swift shadow
against trees and sky
black on blue
a prism
reflecting feathers and air
shapeshifting through light

A shadorma and collage for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, this week.  I can never resist a crow.

 

Surprise

Shapes appear
reflected, freshly
pressed—falling
into place
like the Fool’s card—zero played
openly, surprised.

I’ve been neglecting the Secret Keeper’s prompts the past few weeks for lack of time, not interest.    They are always like a puzzle for me, coming together in unexpected ways when I start to write.  The appearance of the Fool, after a few drafts of ideas, was definitely a surprise.  But serendipity is always part of the work I do.  The end is never where I thought I was going.

I took the photos of Japanese ceramics with the beautiful window light reflected on the glass display cases at the Metropolitan Museum last spring.  I was reminded of them by Marcy Erb’s post a few weeks back of a photo with reflected light on a Buddha, and I think they fit with this poem.

And I’ve resurrected a few Fools from past posts.  The Fool (Zero in the Tarot) represents for me a capacity to be surprised and delighted, to leave an empty space to be filled by life.  Wonder is everywhere; we just need make some room for it occasionally.