I’m a bit late with both my monthly grid (well…somewhat of a grid anyway) and Magnetic Oracle consultation. She felt nonet-ish this week. The poem also uses The Secret Keeper’s words from this week.
I had this idea to try marbling paper, so I looked online for some way to do it with household things. I ended up with one involving shaving cream…a bit messy, and the smell! Also the results were not all I’d hoped for. I do think I would be more prepared if I tried it again, but only if I can find shaving cream that has no perfume…
the sky with
sun shadow’s lost time.
Will sleep serve us summer,
the language of sea gardens
chanting through sweet delirious
mist? and singing petals on the wind?
I’m hoping for some of those dreams this evening myself.
Twelve by ten
squared. Numbered, measured,
Organizing a piece of
the air containing
that spiral into
spaces. What remains unseen?
What role could the box
play? Is your
desire the key to
you ask for more? more than the
possible, more than
The Inner Sanctum.
Chambered and then nautilused.
Complete or undone?
Inspired by Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, I took an old poem that has already had several lives and reworked it again. The only thing that remains constant in all the poem’s versions is the fact that it’s about a box. The one in Sue’s photo seems both sad and mysterious.
Once again I’ve taken different pieces of the handmade paper I’ve accumulated and stitched it together.
Shadorma November is almost at an end (but not shadormas, for me, anyway).
‘We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;’
–W.B. Yeats from ‘Easter, 1916’
layered grey on grey–
This mourning has no ending–
uniforms of dust.
In this chill
remembering the past–
what is gone–
exhaling hard, inhaling
portents and promise
Late with my grid this month too…but then autumn took it’s time to arrive as well. They are promising the first freeze of the season tonight.
And another shadorma for Shadorma November.
Nina is still betwixt and between with her job–as we all know, nothing gets done in a timely way these days. But she will return soon, I promise!
From of killed but spaces why? morning reply no what.
Where? more it when? tomorrow killed has and.
Black another questions wear gun color of sorrow and again just;
Remain will the empty.
I wanted to acknowledge Las Vegas. The dVerse prompt to ignore grammatical rules seemed a good way to reflect our country’s continued loss of syntax. But when I went to write something it just seemed I had nothing more to say. A quick look through the MTM archives counted at least 13 previous posts related to gun violence. Remember the shootings in Kalamazoo in February 2016? That’s what the black grid above was done for.
The two faces above? Victims of Dylann Roof in 2015. And below, cops killed while sitting in their patrol car in NYC in 2014.
Gun of again another why? color more empty is sorrow remain.
Of killed killed;
From what and the just black spaces;
Has and will no it questions shots unfilled.
Morning where? when? Tomorrow
Every day 88 people die by gun violence in the United States.
To make the poems above, I took what I had written for Kalamazoo, and plugged it into the Dada Poetry Generator. I did it about 15 times; all the results were pretty accurate as reflections of my jumbled feelings, and I chose two to use in this post. You can see the original poem here.
Jimmy Kimmel said everything I want to say and more in his monologue the other night.
Charlotte Bacon, 2/22/2006
Daniel Barden, 9/25/2005
Olivia Engel, 7/18/2006
Josephine Gay, 12/11/2005
Ana M Marquez-Greene, 4/4/2006
Dylan Hockley, 3/8/2006
Madeleine F Hsu, 7/10/2006
Catherine V Hubbard – 6/8/2006
Chase Kowalski, 10/31/2005
Jesse Lewis, 6/30/2006
James Mattioli, 3/22/2006
Grace McDonnell, 11/4/2005
Emilie Parker, 5/12/2006
Jack Pinto, 5/6/2006
Noah Pozner, 11/20/2006
Caroline Previdi, 9/7/2006
Jessica Rekos, 5/10/2006
Avielle Richman, 10/17/2006
Benjamin Wheeler, 9/12/2006
Allison N Wyatt, 7/3/2006
Rachel Davino, 7/17/198
Dawn Hochspring, 6/28/1965
Anne Marie Murphy, 7/25/1960
Lauren Russeau, 6/8/1982
Mary Sherlach, 2/11/1956
Victoria Soto, 11/04/1985
once again we ask:
why? no answer. no words left.
a prayer: have mercy.
All art from previous posts on the occasion of death by gunfire in the news.
Really? Talking birds?
Me too! Taking flight in seas
This is loosely a response to the Secret Keeper’s Haiku Review prompt for “How to Recount Your Dreams”.
But mostly it’s an excuse to use the birdlings that appeared on my drawing table a few days ago.
I have a feeling that they will be back…
I’ve also posted this on dVerse, open link night.
Several people have told me that my recent comments have ended up in their spam folder. I find comments to us from other people in there as well. Just one of the WordPress quirks–it pays to check it out every few days just in case.