Scarecrow Joins the Circle Dance
Autumn. I fall into disrepair. The sky still covers me, but my shadow dissolves into the remains of the golden ocean that heretofore eddied and flowed at my feet. My skin lies ragged, unfilled.
I was crowned, once, with dark discordant ornaments. They sit on other thrones now, unrepentant pretenders, still calling the sun, the wind–the land itself–to task.
A crow flies over
a graveyard—blackness on stone–
change hangs in the air
When I saw Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge about scarecrows, I was intrigued. I can’t think of Scarecrow without thinking of Robert Okaji’s wise sage. So whatever I did would be colored by what Robert has written. I also decided to use the words from Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, synonyms for ghost and hollow, as many of them seemed to fit on Scarecrow too.
As to Crow–he’s always around here somewhere.
Once again, different light makes the metallic paint change like the weather and the seasons…and this is another artwork inspired by Joan Mitchell being inspired by Van Gogh. Circles within circles.
Also linked to dVerse Open Link Night.
Incompletion
Tomorrow it will be gone–
this false night,
this held breath–
we are undreamed.
Light falls scattered
without gravity,
a sliver of reflected time–
tomorrow it will be gone,
out there towards never.
It resembles matter,
although it has no form–
this false night,
pure, unbroken–
(that’s what I imagine–
healed and levitating into always)
This held breath—
it neither comes nor goes.
Listening, it does not reply–
(we’ve lost our knowledge of sleep)–
we are undreamed.
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above. Another mysterious landscape.
Another cascade poem.
Opening Echo
Unintended pause–
folding the absence inward,
into the presence
Keeping the hidden—the not
that fills the where without end
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above. What wonderful colors to work with! A magical fairy tale setting.
Disembodied
It lies shallow on this earth.
It is found in what is left behind.
It cannot be contained.
It welcomes no fire to undarken the night.
It shelters the breath of absence.
It lies shallow on this earth.
It opens to what is not there.
It stands silent like the shadow of a scream.
It is found in what is left behind.
It has no name,
this collection of bones–
it cannot be contained.
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above. The poem is another cascade.
The Far Elsewhere
Defined by what it is not–
every particle of light
silent, startling.
A journey neither up nor down,
neither here nor there–
defined by what it is not.
Centered in the outer reaches,
jeweled and huge–
every particle of light.
Remaining as day becomes night,
as seasons fall apart and rearrange themselves–
silent, startling.
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above. The poem is a cascade, a similar form to the pantoum which I have been using so much lately.
Landscape for Kerfe
Kerfe always likes my landscapes so this is one for her today.
I really need art supplies badly. I’m out of quite a few colors but more importantly I need the super heavy watercolor paper. The direction I’m going in seems to call for a lot of layering.
Birdy six days after his brother’s demise. I really can’t tell if he’s sad. He’s usually happy when I’m around. And so it goes.
Revisioning
Trespassing, I sleep
in the underneath, reversed,
bedimmed, unlanded
by growth darkened with endings–
upside down, planted in stone.
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, and Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday words, synonyms for change and defy.
Exposed
Go you darkened, alive,
in silence growing—
go you as wildness
mingling with earth and trees,
holding the sky open
to the wind, seedlings flying,
rooted in air.
Dance you as water falling,
as a jewel crowning–
dance you as the shadow
released to the circle of light,
undressing the stars down
to the bones, falling like moonlight
covered in crystalline wings.
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.
I’ve been reading Pablo Neruda…
Abundance
Fruit decays
and becomes its seed,
abandoned,
earthcovered–
in departing it arrives,
abiding, waiting,
becoming–
is it a choice? Who
chooses which
seeds take root?
Is it a random journey
sleepwalking, rising
into orbed
skies, into flowers,
into green
and wildness,
reaching outward reaching through–
bequeathed into self?
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt above. In my default form, shadorma.
Comment-a-Haiku Poetry Contest: Hearkening
The moon sailing free–
hare pauses in the forest,
listening for light
Vita Brevis is once again sponsoring a haiku meet-and-greet. You can post your own haiku here, and then read all the other ones that have been submitted too.
As I stated in my entry, this haiku was inspired by Jane Dougherty and her many hare poems, like this one or this one. And of course the moon.