March 2021
what dream is this? circling
spiralling into form
slipstreamed fertile reborn
continuous
Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday theme is dreams, so I’ve written a variety of dream poems for March, a dreamy month I think. I’ve interspersed some of my previous March grids.

in March I
ruminate return
remember
rains that be
come sun-dappled spring—shining,
blooming with birdwings

dreams become
part of the landscape
filling in

colors
begin to dance
with waves of light, singing
sun into roots, filling
my nights with dreams
of dawn
Poetic forms are, in order, abhanga, shadorma, haiku, badger’s hexastitch.
renderings
I re-
turn to the earth
reflected as shadow–
silhouette echoing
the places I
have been

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, in the Badger’s Hexastitch form for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday poet’s choice. I’ve decided to try a new syllabic form each month.
Happy to have Sue’s photos back as inspiration!
reflections
ancestors speak in voices
carried by skies singing wings

Colleen’s #TankaTuesday prompt was the watercolor, above. She also challenged us to write a wakiku–two seven-syllable lines that some how connect with the hokku she wrote to accompany the painting. You can read Colleen’s poem here.
October 2020 (Harvest Moon)
autumn dance
condensed into light–
I become
gold tinged with tides,
rising and falling
I did a similar grid with circles a few years ago, but I’ve always wanted to give it another try. As with the last one, I first painted a landscape (wishing I had my gouache, but done with watercolor), then cut it up, rearranged it, and added collage dots from my collage box. Here’s the original landscape:
David Hockney-ish I think. Not my usual style, and perhaps a bit brighter than I intended. But I like the colors.
I’ve done a tanka for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday form challenge, which also works for Frank Tassone’s challenge of harvest moon. The paint oracle is totally responsible for turning my moon painting into a tree.
My new view of the full moon. I have to catch it when it passes between the buildings.
Happy October!
Invocation of the Trees
Have mercy on us
we who are poor in spirit
we who are never satisfied
we who strive to possess everything
We who are poor in spirit
bless us and teach us
we who strive to possess everything
fill us as vessels with the breath of stars
Bless us and teach us
cleanse and heal our weary hearts
fill us as vessels with the breath of stars
attach our roots with grace and truth
Cleanse and heal our weary hearts
quench our hunger with light
attach our roots with grace and truth
you who honor both heavens and earth
Quench our hunger with light
we who are never satisfied
you who honor both heavens and earth
have mercy on us
I’m reblogging this poem from 2018 for earthweal’s “mentors” prompt, adding some tree art from the archives as well.
I’ve written about trees almost as often as birds and the sea. All good and wise teachers. But trees (starting with the Tree of Life) both anchor and reach toward the cosmic why.
on the verge
trees
remember who
we were when
I stand alone surrounded by distances, covered with a vast blue, green layered behind and below. I have come to the precipice to find my place in the landscape. I intended to bring beautiful words, to leave poetic gifts as tokens on the wind, to tie threads of song to the sky.
But I find nothing more is required of me than to be here, present, alive.
once
we belonged
to the earth

For Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday, a haibun inspired by the photo provided by Frank Tassone, above.
I’ve had this song on my mind for awhile.
also linked to earthweal open link weekend
nowhere to go (sailing the moon)
journey like a river,
found in the places
that are always home
sing the music of oceans
weaving patterns of mercy–
journey like a river
become part of each movement,
every path transformed,
found in all places
pass along what has been given–
ride the sky like the wind,
always at home
Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, immediately made me think of Paul Simon’s “Peace Like a River”–and that made me think of “American Tune”–hence the 2 part title. The poem is a cascade, always a good form when writing about water.
Sue titled her photo “Yearning” and I think that’s an emotion Paul Simon captures well.
…and I dreamed I was flying…
June 2019
summer sky sings
away shadow music
into gardens of sealight–
daydreams shining beneath
an enormous jeweled sun
The Oracle gave me a sunny day. I needed it.
Reveiled
We are tracing broken shadowed dreams,
lines that curve and end up on the edge–
these places that come back
and close the door
Lines that curve and end up on edges
that cannot be reached
through any door–
both sides spiraling
They cannot be breached–
they remain, still, abandoned
by both sides, spiraling,
bathed in an untranslatable light
They remain still, abandoned–
we freeze them into frames
bathed in an untranslatable light–
we want to keep them safe, unchanged
We freeze them into frames
that hold our lives like clenched fists–
we want to keep ourselves safe, unchanged,
imprisoned in a maze of rooms
We hold our lives in clenched fists
that deny the landscape of after–
imprisoned in a maze of rooms
from the country of before
Lost in the landscape of after,
these places come back
from the country of before–
we are tracing broken shadowed dreams
A pantoum for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.
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