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full earth

may 18 flower grid s

full earth magnetic

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

may 18 flower grid close up 1s

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

may 18 flower grid close up 2s

 

 

offerings

jm 2b blk s

these wells of wishes–
falling up into the air–
held by waves of light

For NaPoWriMo Day 29 and Sue Vincent’s photo prompt above.

jm 2b close up s

logo-napowrimoArt inspired by Joan Mitchell’s “Grande Vallee”.

 

 

 

Endlessly

dusk to dawn blkForever between today and tomorrow, suspended in presence. Infinite darkness mingling with perpetual light, like shadows photographing a mirror.

At first the beginning is closer than the end. Suddenly the finish has left the start far behind.

What is the measure of now? Who can hold the moving hand, the cell dividing again and again?  Where does the universe locate the particle that waves as it disappears and reappears on its random path?

Who can draw the map that connects never with always?

The remainder of
dusk meeting dawn.  What mortal
can enter the stars?

dusk to dawn close up

For Day Seventeen of NaPoWriMo, I’ve done a haibun for the dVerse prompt, Lingering Day.

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At Sixes and Sevens

jm1b blk s

“Don’t walk under any ladders,
don’t break any mirrors,
don’t spill any salt,
and don’t walk by any black cats.”
–advice for Friday the 13th

jm1b stitching s

Will climbing the sky
undo the journey below–
open the passage?

Can the crossing be
repaired?  Riven, it shatters
both inside and out.

jm 1b mandala back s

Gather the scattered,
the lost, the unfortunate–
season with healing.

Fly with the circle
of thirteen moons—returning
as both dark and light.

jm 1b mandala s

The prompt for day 13 of NaPoWriMo involved playing with a familiar phrase.  I decided to go with superstitions, it being Friday the 13th.  They all have interesting histories,  but I was especially taken with salt as a covenant of friendship.  It was once rare and precious, as friendship always is.

jm 1b wht s

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Home

jm 4a house compThe crows have followed. The blue jays.  The cardinals.  Voice calling to attention as footsteps sound toward and away from doors.  Penetrating closed windows and the background hum of the construction at the end of the block.  Dark shadows transforming into silhouettes on bare branches not yet convinced of the imminent arrival of spring.

Where is the hawk?

jm 4a stitching close up front s

new streets and sidewalks–
winter lingering, chilling–
robin’s morning song

jm 4a wht back s

I recently moved 10 blocks north, a whole new blank slate to fill.

People think of cities as not-nature.  But the birds and trees tell me I’m home.

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For NaPoWriMo Day 12 haibun prompt, and linked to dVerse prompt Urban Renewal.

jm 4a stitching close up back s

Here (Ici)

jm 3c wht s

To be born.
To die.  Each journey
a sudden wave.

–Sonia Sanchez

jm 3c stitching back s

I seek spiders to
prepare this tendu—to be
threaded between born,

between weaving hours stretched to
hold, between the words “to die”.

jm 3c close up s

Treasures wide, deep—each
turn records time, a journey
of endless song, a

ringed cacophony—sudden,
spiraling shadow—spin wave.

jm 3c stitching back close up s

A double tanka shovel poem using Colleen’s prompt words, based on Sonia Sanchez’s wonderful haiku.  The NaPoWriMo prompt today asked us to question our future selves, but to me time circles around, and the future has little meaning in isolation.

You can read about shovel poems here, and read more of Sonia Sanchez here.

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The stitched monoprint was inspired by Joan Mitchell’s painting “Ici”.

Pure Haiku Ocean Series

ocean photo pure haiku s

Thanks to Freya Pickard for choosing one of my poems for her Ocean Series.  You can see it here.

sand s

 

blue space 2

blue raven s

silhouette transformed–
matter into spirit—lore
guides the willing eye

blue raven close up s

Suzanne at Calm and Chaos inspired me with her post this morning.  I also used Colleen’s words to illustrate my initial reaction to the first photo in Suzanne’s post.

 

Headway

23 names for snow s

My skull is clouded, mute. My eyes can’t penetrate the storm of fog.  I wake at night with brain burning–not red fire, but an uncomfortably warm, rough, choking smoke.  There seems to be no ending; the black and white video merges into exaggerations of grey.  All maneuvers lead back into themselves.  I am ill with unease.

Trees stand leafless, calm.
Earth is soaked in melting snow–
awash in waiting.

 

An old collage, but I think it works well with the grey-themed haibun, done for dVerse.  I also used word prompts from Colleen and the Secret Keeper.

Enough

red rain mandala s

Instead of your child,
alive, we are sending you
our thoughts and our prayers.

For dVerse, brevity.