Defined by what it is not–
every particle of light
A journey neither up nor down,
neither here nor there–
defined by what it is not.
Centered in the outer reaches,
jeweled and huge–
every particle of light.
Remaining as day becomes night,
as seasons fall apart and rearrange themselves–
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above. The poem is a cascade, a similar form to the pantoum which I have been using so much lately.
and becomes its seed,
in departing it arrives,
is it a choice? Who
seeds take root?
Is it a random journey
skies, into flowers,
reaching outward reaching through–
bequeathed into self?
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt above. In my default form, shadorma.
Sun fractures my sight–
eyes squinting—landscape breaking–
fevered, tense, thirsting
shifting from was to will be
Back to my monthly grid and another collage.
The world indeed seems to be in retrograde right now. Perhaps the tide will turn soon…
The Motions of Molecules
the patterns compose
of silence. Supplicants to
This will be my last post for awhile. Continuing my nomadic life, I will be moving uptown 10 blocks.
The birdlings will be coming along.
And I plan on being back for NaPoWriMo. It’s just around the corner…
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.
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.
The day is grey
along the way
I don’t know why
but somehow I
just feel like crying
The day is leaving
and it’s deceiving me
No one is near
to stop the fear
within me growing
That moments past
are all my last
without me knowing
The day’s been taken
and it’s forsaking me.
I wrote that song as a teenager caught in the aloneness and isolation of my adolescent angst. Self-indulgent? Yes. But that grey world was often very real to me. It seems strange that a young life so full of possibility would get caught in such a spiraling web of hopelessness.
Of course I’ve never stopped having my moments of self-doubt and gloom. I spent much of 2017 in an intense and draining state of anger at the world, for instance. But over the years I’ve learned to keep moving, always looking for an opening that leads out of that self-perpetuating labyrinth, one that can pull me into a place where I can reconnect with the world. Eventually, my vision clears; the color returns.
At the end of this
circular tunnel, a door–
the light welcomes me.
Sue Vincent’s photo prompt this week, above, reminded me immediately of that song I wrote at 16 or 17 (amazing that I still know all the words, right?).
And that I may have actually learned a thing or two between then and now.