Tag Archive | crow

The Other Side

feb-2017-gird-crows-s

The sky beneath the stars–
earthbound orbit
shadowed by the night,
divided by itself.

Earthbound orbit
always pulled away,
divided by itself,
vast and gravitating.

Always pulled away–
completely boundless ancient
vast and gravitating
dark, dissolving.

Completely boundless ancient
held by threads that sail–
dark, dissolving
tides of wing and air.

Held by threads that sail,
shadowed by the night,
tides of wing and air–
the sky beneath the stars.

This collage was done originally for a Sue Vincent Photo Prompt.  I’ve posted the art again, with a new poem, in celebration of the publication of Marianne Szlyk’s book, “On the Other Side of the Window”, which uses it for the cover illustration.

I was delighted when Marianne asked if she could use one of my crow pieces for her book of poems.  I know her from her wonderful blog of words, art, and music, “The song is…”, and was pleased also to be able to meet her at the New York Poetry Festival on Governor’s Island a few weeks ago.

marianne book cover s

Also linked to dVerse open link night , hosted by Lillian. And yes, yet another pantoum.

 

 

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.

 

Corvus

corvus s

Like the cry of a crow in the morning, the stars of the constellation Corvus leave plenty of space to fill in with the magic of imagination’s wings.

corvus close up s

You can read the words to accompany this image at Pure Haiku, here.

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.

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

Messenger

messenger collage s

swift shadow
against trees and sky
black on blue
a prism
reflecting feathers and air
shapeshifting through light

corvid in flight - Sue Vincent

A shadorma and collage for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, this week.  I can never resist a crow.

messenger close up s

 

February 2017: Crows, Tides, Time

feb-2017-gird-crows-s

They end their flight
one by one–
crows at dusk
–Buson

crow-close-up-3

Shape-shifting in the gap,
the border of the map a light
of shadowing, not quite
prepared to reunite the tide
with ebb and flow implied
by intervals inside of time,
the pause between the line,
the missing paradigm unfilled,
the end of something.  Stilled.

low-tide

I’m a bit late with my February grid, but I thought it complemented Sue Vincent’s “Low Tide” prompt this week, so I did my own poem in response to both Buson and the photo (above).

crow-close-up-1

Once again, I tried a new poetry form; this one is Vietnamese.  It’s called Luc Bat, and you can read about it here.

Draw a Bird Day: the local crow

crow 1s

Crowman, are you stalking me?
call to attention
harsh, always interrupting.

crow 2s

Do you want me to look up?
I’m telling stories,
remaking the recent past.

crow 3s

But that part’s invisible…
or do you hear it?
and are you laughing at me?

crow 4s

OK—I’m leaving that world.
I’m here now, present.
I’m unfolding those regrets.

crow 5s

Are you happy now?

crow 6s

Dedicated to my local crow, whose distinctive voice never fails to bring me back to real time.

Brush and ink on rice paper.

 

There’s a Crow Flying (#4)

crow flying #4s

I feel like that black crow
Flying
In a blue sky

–Joni Mitchell

crow flying #4 close up s

It’s been almost a year since I finished the third one in this group.  You could say Time flies too…

I’ve been working on this on and off for awhile, but seeing that it’s printoctober as well as inktober and drawlloween this month, it’s appropriate that I finally completed stitching the trees.  Originally I did quite a few monoprints from one base that I kept adding colors to, all with a crow series in mind.  I think there are still a few left in my partly-started ideas bin as well.

You can see the rest of the series here.