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May Day

stitched blue tondo undone s

Breath held, returning
we rise, dance the beginning
open to the sun.

Spiraling blessings hum wind,
blood lines quickening, bowing.

For Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, with synonyms for sing and celebrate.  This painting/embroidery is one of the Joan Mitchell inspired pieces I was working on for NaPoWriMo and didn’t finish.  So it’s still in progress.  I will definitely complete this one, but the rest may be put on hold (along with a pile of others…)

stitched blue tondo undone close up s

I’m feeling at loose ends, and I need to put my work space in order so I can find what I’m looking for.  Still many boxes unopened as well.  Time to regroup…but May is starting out with plenty of sunshine!  That feels good.

Wheel of Fortune (X)

jm 13a s

Wheel turning over like a key
opening fate and chance and time.
In all directions destiny–
still center scatters fortune blind.

Lost in all possibility–
searching the hands and face for signs.
Wheel turning over like a key
opening fate and chance and time.

Shadowed by what may never be–
turning into a circled line–
all paths will mirror and rewind
exposing doors no one can see–

Wheel turning over like a key.

Day 27 of NaPoWriMo asks us to look to the Tarot for inspiration.   I’ve done the Wheel of Fortune before, but one of my watercolors based on Joan Mitchell’s “Blue Tondo” was a perfect fit.

The poetic form I used is Rondel.

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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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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”.

Multiples

jm 9b blk s

Shedding my compass
in the Valley of Shadows,
I wonder:  what is

cast by fragments now falling
directionless, unfound?

Late for Day 1 of NaPoWriMo, and using Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.

jm 9b blk back s

The art is a monoprint that was cut into strips, rewoven, and embroidered.

jm 9b close up s

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Turning

turning 2s

Demented, unwanted, our dances are old–
we do not fear the dark.

We cast into circles, the moon for to hold–
demented, unwanted, our dances are old.

Our revenants echo as mountains unfold–
like orbiting stars, their shadows embark.

Demented, unwanted, our dances are old–
we do not fear the dark.

Inspired by Sue Vincent’s prompt photo, above, and also a conversation I had with a friend about a movie she had seen about Africa’s witch camps.

turning 1s

I did two different collage interpretations.

turning 2 close up middle s

The poem is a triolet.  I’m still caught in repetition and rhyme.

turning 1 close up bottom s

Societies all over the world attempt to contain and isolate the difficult and problematic, the despairing, the abandoned, the female, the elderly, the ill, children, anyone inconvenient–there are witch camps everywhere if you care to look.

 

 

Three in Winter 2018 issue of Scribebase

hush

You can see my poems and artwork and read the entire issue here.

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.

From One to the Next

lunation s

Like a murmuring moon,
my lunation turns and repeats,
always unfinished.

As indistinct as air–
unbroken darkness veiled
in expanding light.

Before and after become lost–
the shifting rhymes
remain untamed.

The edge waxes and wanes.
The colors blend and unrainbow–
silent, dazzled, unforeseen.

lunation close up s

A quadrille for dVerse (murmur), which also includes this week’s words from the Secret Keeper.  It was also inspired by Frank Tassone’s hazy moon challenge, although I’m not sure these verses meet any real criteria for haiku.