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The Anthropocene Hymnal

The Anthropocene Hymnal: Songs of a self-defining era by [Ingrid Wilson]

I’m pleased to be part of Ingrid Wilson’s project, The Anthropocene Hymnal: Songs of a self-defining era, “A poetic response to the joint crises of climate change and biodiversity loss. Featuring the work of internationally-renowned and bestselling poets including Gabriela Marie Milton, Ivor Steven and Sherry Marr. Voices from five continents join in song to protest the damage we are doing to our only home, planet earth: these ‘songs of a self-defining era’ are the poems which comprise The Anthropocene Hymnal”.

Some of my poems are included, and that’s my collage on the cover.

Available on Amazon in both print and kindle versions, and read Ingrid’s post for information on obtaining a PDF copy. All profits will be donated to the WWF.

Thursday Doors: House on West End Avenue

I’ve always liked this house on West End Ave. The entrance is on the side.

I couldn’t get a straight on angle to photo the door. It has nice details on the top and in the surrounding arch.

And here’s some flowers I saw while walking along Columbus Avenue.

You can see more doors and join in here.

Serendipity (Thursday Doors and more)

some call the city a jungle,
tangled chaos–
but shapes
form
patterns—all those
untried
doors!
endless portals,
sprouting
more

I do like arched doors, and here are a few I saw on my travels around NYC last week. The one above and below were on opposite ends of the same block.

a close up

I’ve written a zeno poem for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday with synonyms for green and morass. We can now use any form from the poet’s collective list.

Here’s an arched side door next to some scaffolding, ubiquitous in Manhattan.

And some greenery and hydrangeas from the city parks–we are still getting a lot of rain.

My younger daughter used to play softball on this field in Central Park. It was a foggy day, and the fields were closed on account of being so wet. hence the red flag.

You can see more and join in here for Thursday Doors.

Galah Cockatoo (draw a bird day)

galah–
colorful clowns,
a loud mouthed gathering
of white crested coral–
life indwelling
wild, full

A Badger’s hexastitch for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday and Draw a Bird Day.

Galah cockatoos are native to Australia, where they live in large flocks on open grasslands feeding on seeds, berries and insects. But they also can be seen in urban settings, where their raucous calls and adaptations to human habitation are often considered nuisances. The word galah means fool or clown in the Aboriginal language of Yuwaalaraay and is used as such as a derogatory term in Australia (or so the internet tells me…any Australians reading this can confirm or deny)

Cockatoos are highly social and intelligent, and are bred and sold as pets. But these very traits make them not only very high maintenance, but possibly destructive and dangerous. I’ve written about this before–these animals should not be confined and separated from the flocks that are their natural social groups.

July 2021 with blue door

let yourself be
enchanted with each moment
as it appears

July makes me long for the ocean, so my grid is composed of ocean doors. But I also found a blue house door into the garden level of a brownstone that makes me think its owners are reminding themselves too every day of the sea.

You can join Thursday Doors here.

inheritance

hands threading needles
accumulating stitches
delicate like wings
flexible strong like branches
like rivers singing
ancient ancestral patterns
releasing through re
peating remembering re
vealing what was always there

seeds growing
anonymous roots
flowering

For Colleen’s #TankaTuesday prompt, a Chōka. Jules provided the theme of discovery.

I come from a family where all the women were textile artists of some sort–sewing, quilting, knitting, crocheting, embroidery–my grandmother even worked as a hat maker before she was married. My mother started me embroidering at a young age, and we did the bird kits, above, together. She loved the color red and cardinals, so that was hers; I stitched the blue bird. And I discovered how much I loved embroidery.

My mother never had the confidence to do her own designs, but always encouraged me in my own explorations. I think of her, and all the women in my family, every time I pick up a needle.

green park red doors

There is nothing else than now. There is neither yesterday, certainly, nor is there any tomorrow. How old must you be before you know that?
Ernest Hemingway (For Whom the Bell Tolls,1940)

cocooned in green light
I am nowhere but right here
dappled by these trees

Central Park right now is green, green, green.

Jade at dVerse asked us to choose one of the Hemingway quotes she provided and write a poem in response. I shortened the quote for my short response.

And because it’s Thursday, I’m including some firehouse doors from new and old neighborhoods. Firefighters are very much aware of the nowness of life.

Although I think you could make the case for doors in the Central Park photos as well…

Your can add your own doors and see many others at Thursday Doors.

Another Visit (Thursday Doors)

I went back to the turret house I photographed a few weeks ago to try to get a better photo of both the building and the entrance door. Above is the door.

And here’s a view of the entire house, taken from the park across the street on Riverside Drive.

This was my original photo.

I’m also posting some (to me) magical flowers I keep seeing on my walks in Riverside Park. I tried to figure out what they were online with no luck. Does anyone know?

I know exactly where they are–at 106 Street–because there is the statue of Franz Sigel across the street at the top of the steps. My longest residence anywhere in my life was up those steps, down 106 Street one block, and in the middle of the block to the left on West End Avenue. But I’ve never seen these flowers before.

I hope they continue to plant them every year!

It’s Thursday, so I’m linking to Thursday Doors.

Atlantic Puffins (Draw a Bird Day)

Atlantic Puffins are seabirds that breed in large colonies on cliffs or offshore islands along the North Atlantic coast of both Europe and America.  When not breeding, they spend most of their time on the ocean.

Each time I look for information about the birds I draw, I find declining numbers, even if they are not yet endangered.  Habitat destruction.  Declining food sources.  Overhunting.

Puffins are no exception.  How to reverse these trends?

Crucial to finding the way is this:  there is no beginning or end.  No magic formula to suddenly turn things around.

It’s a process.  No moment exists when the fragility and interdependence of ecosystems reaches perfect balance, when humans can relax and ignore the repercussions of our behavior.  We must remain always aware, always learning, always willing to make necessary changes to insure continuity.  To keep the circle connected and alive.

I challenged myself to see if I could take Merril’s quote from Jo Harjo and do a prosery for dVerse. It actually fit the theme of Draw a Bird Day quite well.

“Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end.”

Here’s some information about Atlantic Puffins:
–Their wings become flippers underwater. They are excellent divers and can reach depths of 200 feet.
–The hinges on their beak allow them to carry several fish at once.
–They have been observed using sticks as tools.
–Their nicknames are sea parrot or clown of the sea. Puffin chicks are called pufflings.
–Puffin colonies are referred to as a burrow, a circus, or an improbability.
–Puffins mate for life and often return to the same nest or burrow. They lay a single egg which both parents brood for several months.
–They spend the winter on the open ocean, rarely returning to land.

June 2021

long green days
open like roses
like fresh dreams

fragrances whispered
into clear blue skies

That’s my hope for June anyway.