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Evasions

evasions s

What we can’t find
shifts and relocates–
a destination uncontained

by any place, by any time–
(turn around, it disintegrates)–
what we can’t find

is a chord that won’t be captured or sustained,
a rhythmic dance that evaporates,
a destination uncontained

by what is annexed or confined–
(on every verge it hesitates)–
what we can’t find

is an empty signpost, uninscribed–
pointing out and over there, it dislocates
each destination.  Uncontained,

incomplete, and undefined,
 each choice continues and awaits
what we can’t find–
a destination, uncontained.

Another villanelle, for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  Grace at dVerse talked about slant rhyme this week, and I’ve incorporated some ones that lean pretty far in my poem.  I still find this form difficult, and this one needs some revision, especially in the flow.

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Off prompt for NaPoWriMo Day12.

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I Consider the Threshold

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What walks with me,
neither ahead nor behind?
What casts its shadow beside?

What remains when I am gone?
What leaves me in its wake?
Who follows what follows after?

Does thought have a clock?
Are memories past if they are present–
do ideas exist only in the frame of time?

Which landscape is real–
the one attached to gravity,
or the one with wings?

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, and the NaPoWriMo prompt of what if?

threshold close up s

I haven’t consulted the Oracle yet today, but she sent a message anyway.

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Take These Broken Wings

there's a crow flying #2

Curse not the king, no, not even in thy thoughts, and curse not the rich in thy bedchamber; for a bird of the air shall carry thy voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter.
–Ecclesiastes 10:20

Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
–Wallace Stevens, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”

apolcalyptic crows wht s

That which hath wings shall tell
(blackbird whirling in the autumn winds)
The birth of the sky, the void in the flow

Three minds like a tree in parallel
(rising in blueness, the mystery twinned)
That which hath wings shall tell

Blackbirds are involved in what I know
(how to release and how to begin)
The birth of the sky, the void in the flow

A man and a woman are one distilled
(diving divining reflected and twinned)
That which hath wings shall tell

The river is moving in flying shadow
(the question unseen that I can’t comprehend)
The birth of the sky, the void in the flow

Imagine these golden birds aglow
(the crow and the tree and the origin’s end)
That which hath wings shall tell
The birth of the sky, the void in the flow

There's a crow flying # if I flew

For the NaPoWriMo prompt, a villanelle with lines taken from an outside text.  I’ve used both of these poetic sources before; you can see examples here and here.  To the words of Stevens and the Bible, I added text from one of my many crow poems, and art selected from my many pieces inspired by crows.

And since dVerse is conveniently featuring the villanelle form this month, I’ve linked to the collection of villanelle poems.

spiral crows 2s

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Archives

archives s

No army of beasts or men now darkens this way–
this solitary timeline of an arcane place–
no footsteps follow, no watcher casts an eye

What nourishes this soil, this evaporated sea,
this tangle of intricate light and grace?
No army of beasts or men now darkens this way

Bones resting shallow like lines on the palm of memory–
ghostly wanderers, shaded in lace–
no footsteps follow, no watcher casts an eye

What lasts but flowers pressed between a sigh?
just out of reach, these names without a face–
No army of beasts or men now darkens this way

Return these paths to elements that signify–
erase the human presence, leave no trace–
no footsteps to follow, no watcher to cast an eye

These sagas without end, without anything to say,
these battles over nothing that debase–
let no army of beasts or men darken this way–
let no footsteps follow, no watcher cast an eye

A villanelle for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  Villanelle is the featured form at dVerse for the month of April.  As far as I could tell, I’ve only done one previously, for a hawk I saw out my window.

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We’re about to begin NaPoWriMo–I managed every day last year, and hope to do it again.  I’m sure we will find a few villanelles merged into the daily prompts that you can find here at the NaPoWriMo website.  Submit your site, and then your daily poems in the comments section.

 

Hallow

hallow s

summon the bones
uncoiled dream
chasm, koan
raw energy

uncoiled dream
glimpses of signs
raw energy
vanishing lines

glimpses of signs
particles in sync
vanishing lines
held on the brink

particles in sync
images transpire
held on the brink
omens, desire

images transpire
time distills
omens, desire
nowhere reveals

time distills
chasm, koan
nowhere reveals
summon the bones

One more pantoum for the dVerse March poetic form, inspired by Sue Vincent’s photo prompt above.

hallow close up 2s

Sabio Lantz posted a pantoum that I found very appealing in its brief rhythmic images. He said in his post that he had discovered that the original Maylay pantoums had very short lines, so I thought I would try one in that spirit.  I’ve always thought the pantoum form worked well for chants, and the shorter lines magnify this feeling.

 

Equinox

march moon 3s

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Nina gave me a magnetic board for consulting the Oracle.  This was her first message…of course she had to mention this week’s full moon!

march moon 4s

In between all the rain and wind, it was a clear, if misty, night.  I like the way the moon mirrored the streetlight rising over the buildings too.

march moon 1s

breathe spirit from within
be nothing but a moon song
speaking with the wind

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Poem at the Ekphrastic Review

devil 2 text s

My poem “(and the devil too)”, a response to a mysterious painting by Omar Odeh, is up at The Ekphrastic Review, along with seven other wonderful illuminations of Odeh’s work.  My thanks to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for including my collage poem amongst all the words, and for connecting me to the work of this artist.

(and the devil too) s

filling the margins,
spirits clinging to shadows–
the witching hour

The title is taken from a song by XTC, “Dear God”, a still (sadly) appropriate commentary on the world that we humans have made for themselves.

Otherworld

otherworld wht s

Our years collected and worn–
blurred images of moving light,
multiplied as remnants of form
in a place where days have no weight

Blurred images of moving light,
wandering rooted yet unearthed–
in a place where days have no weight
our location is always inferred

Wandering rooted yet unearthed,
entwined in threads of air–
our location is always inferred
like outlines of skeletal prayer

Entwined in threads of air,
our voices echo in disarray–
like outlines of skeletal prayer,
a presence hovering halfway

Our voices echo in disarray–
unbodied, but too tangled to deny–
a presence hovering halfway,
an absence dancing in the sky

Unbodied, but too tangled to deny–
multiplied as remnants of form–
our absence dancing in the sky,
our years collected and worn

Another pantoum, for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  This started out as a very different poem, but I think the Oracle is still hanging around.

otherworld close up s

dVerse is featuring the Pantoum this month.  In case you haven’t noticed, it’s a form I like a lot.

Verging

verging s

Opening, we become desconstructed by the wind–
returned to air and light
we become shadows,
we become veils and mirrors

Returned to air and light
we become vessels and messengers–
we become veils and mirrors,
we become what is seen with closed eyes

We become vessels and messengers,
we become feathers and then wings–
we become what is seen with closed eyes
and we dance like birds flying

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We become feathers and then wings–
we become the not that is–
as we dance like birds flying
we become the pull of the unknown

We become the not that is,
we become the winter that becomes spring–
we become the pull of the unknown,
of summer that falls always into winter again

verging left s

We become the winter that becomes spring,
reflecting the outline of what isn’t there–
of summer that falls always into winter again,
a framework for revenants

Reflecting the outline of what isn’t there,
we become shadows,
a framework for revenants–
opening, we become deconstructed by the wind

A pantoum for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  This one is unrhymed.  I think you can play with the form and still keep the circle if you keep the repetition of lines in place, and I always like to have the first and last lines be the same.  Here’s another one I did for one of Sue’s photos last year that also involves openings:  We Sleep.

verging center s

dVerse is featuring the Pantoum for the month of March.  You can read about it and follow the link to the the ever-growing library of poems here.

 

March 2019 spring?

 

March 19 grid 2s

march magnetic

There’s 4 inches of snow here with more to come tomorrow, but the Oracle was insistant on the arrival of spring…it’s certainly a nice thought.

Spring comes wandering
covers my sleep with flowers
blankets of birdsong