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Between

between full comp

The path connects the path divides,
the sky is rising like a tree–
the ending moves, retreats, and hides
what is, is not, has yet to be.

The sky is rising like a tree,
the land grows following behind
what is, is not, has yet to be–
an offering returned in kind.

The land grows following behind
the dance of water, spirits, earth–
an offering returned in kind–
a trance, a dream, remembered birth.

A dance of water, spirits, earth–
the ending moves, retreats and hides
a trance, a dream, remembered birth–
the path connects the path divides.

A pantoum for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  I love the rhythm of circular dance that this form always evokes for me.

between close up wood s

I photographed the art on many many backgrounds; it looked different on each one.  But I kept going back to these two:  vivid blue and wood floor.  Each brings out a different aspect of the painting/collage.

between close up blue s

 

Pathways

pathways 1s

pathways magnetic

my wild roots wander,
longing to breathe blue into
green, seed into wind,

beneath the moon growing full–
yearnings climbing air and light

I consulted the Oracle with Colleen’s words this week in hand.  I tried to go in one direction, but, as usual, the Oracle knew where she wanted to go, and went there, taking me along.  The art is part of a larger piece “in process”–but it seemed to fit the words.

 

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.

Moondrunk

moondrunk close up s

moondrunk magnetic

Bitter seas rip time
suspended in storms screaming
cravings of raw dreams

Let urges lie still—sleeping
on ships of moondrunk wishes

moondrunk full s

I haven’t consulted with the Oracle in awhile.  No one I know is sleeping well these days–I like her advice.  She graciously included the Secret Keeper’s words from this week as well.

I’m also connecting with dVerse Open Link Night.

 

That Which Hath Wings

spiral crows 2s

“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

Black is for nothing
waiting—shadow bird, mirrored
particles of air

of skies that open
wings, hold inside the absent
voice that shatters all

which is, which becomes,
which hath grown darkness—veiled words
becoming matter—

Nothing is waiting,
nothing sings but the silence.
All is black on black,

formless, flying on
feathers’ breath, and all shall be
now and forever

nothing nothing no
thing nothing nothing nothing
nothing nothing no

cries no conjuring–
every thing zeros falls in
to black as black is–

Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge this week is “Raven”.  I have many a crow poem and many pieces of crow art in some form of completion, and this is a poem I’ve been worrying for awhile.  I changed its form recently from a series of shadormas to haikus.  I think the shorter stanzas are better.  But it’s still a work in progress.

Yesterday I was walking on 153rd Street, which borders Trinity Cemetery, and I heard some crows–then many many crows–looking up, a murder, circling and calling against the blue sky.  I haven’t seen that in the city before.  And I thought, well, I have artwork for that too.

What it signified I don’t yet know.

Wolf Dream

blue wolf moon s

My dream is singing
my dream is death rising

My dream calls spirits
my dream frees ghosts that are me

My dream is all eyes
my dream is everywhere here

Trust the keeper
trust the howling caught inside
trust the chaos and the night

blue moon comp

I know some cultures have 13 names for the moon year, but I’m going with this being the Blue Wolf Moon.  Hopefully, a harbinger of better times for all–

crow tree sky

apolcalyptic crow 2s

 wondering why then suddenly where
the crow
diving divining reflecting sky scrying
the crow
and the tree and the meaning of be
the birth in the sky and the void in the flow
rising in greyness
the mystery flying
letting and leaving the tree now receiving
the question
crow
carries that no one can see
the sky grey the tree
the crow

always leaving

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt above.  I can no more resist a crow than the moon.

apolcalyptic crow1s

Also linking to open link night on dVerse.

apolcalyptic crows wht s

Kaleidoscopy

kaleidoscopy close up photoshop 1 radial blur s

Opposite is what? See mirrors
of waters shimmering beyond borders,
forming visions.  Images shatter.
What are realities?  Here is there–
nowhere to go but around.  Circles.
Time changes light.
Light changes what is unseen.
The answer will echo and move
between.  Always and both,
particle and wave, wave and particle,
both.  And always between.
Move, and echo will answer.  The
unseen is what changes light.
Light changes time,
circles around.  But go to nowhere–
there is here.  Realities are what
shatter images–visions forming
borders beyond shimmering waters of
mirrors.  See what is.  Opposite.

dVerse challenged us to use one of Sharon Knight’s beautiful landscapes to inspire.  I used her photo “Kaleidoscopy”, above.  Perfect for a Rorschach painting and a palindrome poem.

kaleidoscopy rorschach s

This is my original painting; the top one is “enhanced” in Photoshop.  My favorite way to spend time–playing with colors, shapes, and words.

You can see more of Sharon Knight’s work here.  And visit dVerse to see how others have responded to her wonderful work.

 

WolfMoon

wolfmoon howl s

WolfMoon–
shapeshifting, orbed–
hunting, calling, longing,
gathering beginnings and ends–
howling.

I haven’t tried a cinquain for Colleen’s Poetry Challenge yet, but it seemed to fit the beautiful full moon of the New Year.  I often find strict rules help in focusing my thoughts, and that was definitely the case here.

And no, you haven’t seen the last of that moon in my art and words…