You are less
than I remember,
and more than
I superimpose myself
like a mask of light.
I’m not really sure this satisfies the dVerse prompt to write a letter, but I immediately thought of the stitching and Photoshop layering I had done using some childhood photos, trying to make a composite of is and was.
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
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–
Paul Simon said that one man’s ceiling is another man’s floor. Whose floor is the sky? Does it open at night to spill the dance of the stars, the sailing of the moon, into our earth-bound feet?
Moving toward eclipse–
double reckoning of light
bearing winter’s tides.
My windows become eyes to let the nightshine in.
Could I resist the dVerse winter moon haibun prompt?
This was my best photo of the first New Year’s Moon (that’s a rubber band that was on the floor…how did that happen?).
“…till the morning break
And the white hush end all but the loud beat
Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet.”
–W.B. Yeats, from ‘To some I have talked with by the fire’
Once again I dipped into Jane Dougherty’s Month of Yeats for some inspiration. The Oracle seems to have caught a mood circling around the earth which is definitely Yeatsian.
Above is the view out back last night, which also somehow feels right for the Oracle’s (and Yeat’s) words…
bird wings like
cloudlight caught between
frost and wind
covering winter with paths
which grow cold shining
Down at the Jersey shore they used to have these inground trampoline places. My sister and I had never jumped on trampolines and we used to like going. I found a picture of me jumping with my sister in the foreground.
Here’s the photo probably taken by my father. We’ve been going through a lot of stuff and I continually find myself intrigued by old photos. I went through all my colored pencils and arranged them in color order in two containers; also sharpened them. Colored pencil on black paper is a fun way to draw.
#30 Li Fire
fire with fire–
intersections of endings–
beginning to rise
I was amazed to see that it’s been almost a year since my last Beach I Ching post. I’ve been working on this one for awhile, though. The symbol of fire has shown up a lot for me this year. Li is a doubling of fire, reflecting its dual nature of creation and destruction. This hexagram is also called Radiance, Clarity, Sun, Transformation–it has many manifestations. The Chinese characters are also sometimes said to resemble a bird captured in a net.
“Do not think at the moments when you see no light that there is no light at all.”
“It is good to see what you have lost and mourn it, to let grief flow, like time.”
“Take what is important and let the rest go.”
Collage with painted bird, photo of objects collected on the beach, and another shadorma for Shadorma November.
You can see all the Beach I Ching posts here.
grey suddenly blue
I walk circles with the light
returning to stars
“On the Road” has a haiku prompt this week that considers the life and work of Kikusha-Ni, a Buddhist nun, poet, artist, and wanderer.
I used two sky photos I took at the beach and did some quick watercolors on rice paper, combining the elements in a few different ways.
The haiku evolved along with my photoshop manipulations.
dawning grey to blue
the sun wears orange this evening
returning to black