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a fragment of a dream, caught in the morning light

fragment close up s

and I am reminded again of who I am,
what I see when I look up at the night sky,
the scent of the earth in spring–

I feel the summer lingering,
long days of sun and sand
and the salty taste I carry
through days that follow me in rhythm
with the waves–

I see the sharpness of blue sky
behind black branches,
a playground of white snow
that culminates in hot chocolate,
logs burning,
the inside warming the outer—

I have been uprooted and transplanted
so many times that nowhere is home–
everything is temporary–
I’m always expecting to move on–

but I remember looking up
through the shade of oak trees,
the roses in my mother garden,
lilacs filled with butterflies—

the rust and gold of autumn
singing beneath my feet

a fragment s

NaPoWriMo asked us today to talk about our origins.

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Take These Broken Wings

there's a crow flying #2

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

Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
–Wallace Stevens, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”

apolcalyptic crows wht s

That which hath wings shall tell
(blackbird whirling in the autumn winds)
The birth of the sky, the void in the flow

Three minds like a tree in parallel
(rising in blueness, the mystery twinned)
That which hath wings shall tell

Blackbirds are involved in what I know
(how to release and how to begin)
The birth of the sky, the void in the flow

A man and a woman are one distilled
(diving divining reflected and twinned)
That which hath wings shall tell

The river is moving in flying shadow
(the question unseen that I can’t comprehend)
The birth of the sky, the void in the flow

Imagine these golden birds aglow
(the crow and the tree and the origin’s end)
That which hath wings shall tell
The birth of the sky, the void in the flow

There's a crow flying # if I flew

For the NaPoWriMo prompt, a villanelle with lines taken from an outside text.  I’ve used both of these poetic sources before; you can see examples here and here.  To the words of Stevens and the Bible, I added text from one of my many crow poems, and art selected from my many pieces inspired by crows.

And since dVerse is conveniently featuring the villanelle form this month, I’ve linked to the collection of villanelle poems.

spiral crows 2s

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inquisition

inquisition s

Where do I hide?  I build this tree,
the branches tangled over me,
I ask myself:  how will I know
what voids this curse?  what sets me free?

I sit and sit. The hours grow.
The birds have wings—they come and go.
My rhythm cannot hold their song.
How can I breathe?  What cries the crow?

My body emptying skin to bone,
my mind hardening into stone,
falling like silence to the ground–
How do I bide?  I lie alone.

The sea and sky cannot be found.
Memories circle round and round,
searching for possibility–
How am I held?  Where am I bound?

inquisition close up s

Frank at dVerse has asked us to consider blame and forgiveness.  And a final rubaiyat for the month of February, with short lines this time.

 The hardest person to forgive is often yourself.

Draw-a-Bird Day: Unclaimed

feather without a wing s

unclaimed magnetic s

feather without close up 1s

as the stars devour
their darkest dance,
I grow ever smaller–
a feather without wings,
orbiting on cloud sails,
lingering as a hole
in the breath of ghosts

feather without close up 2s

Crows.  The Oracle knows.

 

 

 

besieged

distant shores mandala s

gathering like fire,
 these memories leave me swept
on abandoned shores–

I disintegrate in words
 trying to unspell the past

ds close up 2s

For Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, with synonyms for congregate and passion.

ds dots s

Memory is indeed a tricky thing.

 

 

Interrupted by Form

bone circle s

How do we
return the gift of
death?  How do
we unfold
the wrapping, respond to bone
disrobed and fragile?

How do we
sweep the sky, catch soul
patterns made
of flying
light?  How do we count the years
back into remains?

Inspired by Sue Vincent’s photo prompt above.

bone circle close up s

 

No Crows

no crows s

What message
this black performance?
retrograde
running through
the clash of silence unbound,
stark with intention.

Misplaced, those
promises—passwords
forgotten,
erased and
unfigured—transparent streaks
against darking skies.

no crows close up s

Jane Dougherty’s raven poem reminded me to visit the Secret Keeper’s words this week, and also reminded me of the various crows demanding my attention as I go about my life.  Sounds of silence (for dVerse).

Art inspired by Joan, Joni, and Vincent.

 

Over/Under

like water falling s

Like water
falling—running and
colliding
unabridged–
awakening and reaching,
encircled in green.

In flowers
dreaming—lost inside,
drowning—caught
on the edge
of rebirthing the crossing–
like water, falling.

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  The poem started out as a pantoum, but decided instead to be a shadorma.  The art was in a pile of not-sure-what-to-do-with-it work–it’s a watercolor monoprint on rice paper off something else I was working on that had too much paint. It seemed to fit the prompt.

I think there’s a pair of wings in there somewhere too.

And I want to also celebrate the fact that July is #WorldWatercolorMonth, “31 days when artists around the globe come together to paint the world with beautiful watercolor and help raise awareness for arts education to get art supplies for kids who need them via The Dreaming Zebra Foundation”, hosted by Charlie at Doodlewash.

 

Eye of Horus (The Visible and Invisible are Dependent on the Light)

horus a

One eye the moon
eye of time
one eye the sun
winged eye

Eye of time
marking the minutes
winged eye
still above the sky

Marking the minutes
fierce ascending
still above the sky
soundless and waiting

Fierce ascending
 flaming through clouds
soundless and waiting
unexpected

Flaming through clouds
one eye the sun
unexpected
one eye the moon

falcon flight s

I’ve been missing Draw-a-Bird Day, but this month I wanted to make sure I participated.  Still in mandala mode, I decided to do Horus, the Egyptian falcon sky god.  I like the fact that one of his eyes represents the sun, and one the moon. You may be familiar with the Eye of Horus amulet, which offers protection and insight.

horus close up s

The falcon is a universal symbol of visionary power and focus.

hawk in flight s

Once again, a pantoum.

 

 

 

 

Liberty

july 4 mandala s

Lights explode
like flowers—showers
of color
hiding stars
behind a rainstorm of fire.
Heat shatters silence—

it ripples
like stones entering
black water,
consuming
itself at last on the shores
of the breaking day.

july 4 mandala close up s

This 4th of July 2018 I invite our President and members of Congress, and the justices of the Supreme Court, to actually read and consider the words inscribed on our Statue of Liberty.

The New Colossus

Emma Lazarus, 18491887

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

 

Have a great 4th!