full earth

I consulted the Magnetic Oracle for a haiku to go with my May grid.

moon blossoms between
rain root and seed song—bird boughs
blanket the wild wind

 

 

I Become Clichéd

My windows open me.
My windows cover, enclose, hide.

I am reflected, pushed inside by darkness.
I am reflected, merging outside into the landscape of the sun.

My windows are two-way mirrors.
My windows are tricks of the eye.

How can I exist in transparency?
How can I exist as glass?

My windows know both sides of the story.
My windows reverse me into particles of light.

for NaPoWriMo Day 26, inspired by Robert Okaji’s “Helinski“

and one of Joan Mitchell’s sunflower paintings

 

Calendars

ensorcelled by time–
repeating forms, I cross the
signs marking the gap,

the shift from circle to square–
caught on the edges of lines

I’ve used synonyms for Colleen’s words this week, enchant and shape, for my tanka for  NaPoWriMo Day 25.

The art, inspired by Joan Mitchell’s “Bonjour Julie”, is done on graph paper (at a recent exhibit of Josef Albers’ work I noted that he started with graph paper for some of his work as well).

This is the way I used to present my sweater designs…marker dots of the various colors to show the pattern.  I decided to cross stitch over this design, and I like the combination of texture and color on both front and back.  And, well, grids…

Tea with the Oracle

teacup spilling clouds
of moon fruit–
tendriled secrets
from rivers of flowers–
thick with the wild longing
of animal song wandering
through birdwind

 

Today for NaPoWriMo Day 14 we are dreaming–who better to consult than the Magnetic Oracle?

 

Verging

For Day 7 of NaPoWriMo, Merril, in her post “Haunted”, reminded me to consult the Magnetic Oracle, as we often do of a Saturday.  I too was given windows.  We have many thresholds to cross these days it seems.

& may I
give you wild eternity?
windows of stars waking
amid dazzled trees–
breathing time open

The art was inspired by Joan Mitchell, and consists of several monoprints, cut into strips and woven, with collage over some of the squares.

 

 

April 2, 2018

I dissolve
blue into greyness,
hints of greens
dusted white,
playing with seasonings—taste
the bitter between.

You garnish
me with cold crumbs—you toss, stir,
fold me in
confusion.
You flour me with absent songs,
lost ingredients.

Where is spring?
The earth marinates–
veiled bouquets
lie in wait
to complete the recipe–
feed these hungry souls.

My monthly grid(s) for April 2018; the poem was composed today for the NaPoWriMo prompt of changing voices.  The weather in/con/spired.

 

 

Multiples

Shedding my compass
in the Valley of Shadows,
I wonder:  what is

cast by fragments now falling
directionless, unfound?

Late for Day 1 of NaPoWriMo, and using Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.

The art is a monoprint that was cut into strips, rewoven, and embroidered.

Draw-a-Bird Day: Birdlings are Back

The Motions of Molecules

Appearing
suddenly,
the patterns compose
themselves.  Shapes
of silence.  Supplicants to
the definitive.

This will be my last post for awhile.  Continuing my nomadic life, I will be moving uptown 10 blocks.

The birdlings will be coming along.

And I plan on being back for NaPoWriMo.  It’s just around the corner…

March 2018

I consulted the magnetic Oracle for my March grid, where I wove strips of winter photos with strips of flowers.  Her answer to my questions was enigmatic, as always.

Spring
like winter’s secret stone
dawns quietly
with pure shine
following the moon.

When?
we ask
how?

Some say
the path wanders
between frosted winds.

 

February 2018

This weary stillness–
grey tethered to grey within
a vast clouded sky.

I search for signs, openings–
overflowing dreams of stars.

Bending the synonyms a bit, I’ve used the prompt words from Colleen and the Secret Keeper for my poem.  February is definitely a month when I need the light of the stars.