Tulips

Shell pink petals
Sunlight turns the tips creamy
Pollen beckons within cups
Feasts for the bees

Say Good Morning

What do you do 

when you head into the morning 

to pick dandelion leaves for the rabbit, 

and you meet a

pea-sized spot of joy on a plant?

-Kathryn Harper

Noticing

I was cleaning the sink the other evening, and when I pulled the stopper out of the soapy water, this large bubble was attached.

Naturally I whipped out my cell phone to take some photos. I like this one best (despite the shadow of my finger in the lower corner), because the reflective iridescence is beautiful. I see the kitchen windowpane at the top, and other indiscernible objects from the counter. It lasted several minutes; then a subtle shift in the air breached the bubble and *pop*, it was gone. 

I would categorize this as a glimmer -- a moment of fascination and joy. 

Implacably Aloof

"At the start of this quest, I had no way of imagining that long after it was over I would still be struggling to formulate a coherent response to the miseries the canyon inflicted on us, the satisfactions that would later overtake the memories of that misery, or the yearning and splendor that transcended them all. I had no way to fathom the force with which the canyon's austerity, its grandeur, and its radiance -- traits that stand implacably aloof to human hopes and ambitions -- can impart a perspective that will enable you to see yourself as nothing more, and nothing less, than a grain of sand amid the immensity of rock and time and the stars at night."

-Kevin Fedarko, A Walk in the Park: the True Story of a Spectacular Misadventure in the Grand Canyon

Eva Cassidy - Over The Rainbow

There’s Always Looking After

There’s Always Looking After

A tree is a guardian angel.

Trees talk to us, they
whisper stories and secrets,
slip us clues to universal mysteries.
Do you see the forest, or the trees?
Sap murmurs up the trunk in spring. Listen.
The apple falls (not far from the tree), its
crisp honey tang for the taking. Notice
how the air changes when you approach
a woods; the fresh, spicy scent of leaves
and needles performing their gift of tonglen.
Handle limbs gently. Despite their
coarseness, trees are benign as babies.

Autumn. My favorite elegy. Red orange yellow
each color a note, a symphony of glorious
death. Gaia’s last hurrah before hibernation.

Glorious death. The nativity of Jesus in
Bethlehem was honored by his parents, wise
shepherds, angels — even animals. But not
one tree except for the remnant serving
as his crib. Look what happened to him.
Whereas Buddha, under a Bodhi tree,
received the gift of enlightenment.

Beware. Trees are destroyers. When touched
by lightning (not an angel), in a rhumba
with the wind, trees release limbs as
geckos lose their tails. They surrender
responsibility, abandon stability,
crush what lies beneath. A shard
of wood thrown by a tornado can kill you.

How many angels are there? They number
more than all the leaves on all the trees
since Big Time began. Earth — head
of a pin on which all trees dance.
Those trees, they krunk in a hot minute.
We just don’t see them. They move so fast.

A baby is born. A sapling takes root.
As roots grow, her neurons multiply.
They amputated the tree in our yard
the other day. Am I going to die now?

A tree is a livin’ thin’, wif it’s own
varmintality, expressed by it’s shape,
texture, locashun, seasonal variashuns,
shade/sun alterashun, th’ emoshuns it
invokes in th’ obsarver, th’ memo’ies
it stimulates in th’ obsarver. A tree
lives as long as a hoomin, o’ longer,
an’ faces th’ elements day-in an’
day-out. To sacrifice a tree is a kind
of euthanasia. A tree thet yo’ plant
today will outlive yo’, an’ affeck other
hoomins in th’ future junerashuns… but
will only be thar IF yo’ an’ yer projuny
own th’ lan’ on which th’ tree thrives.
Own SOME lan’, somewhar, an’ put trees
on it, an’ viset an’ watch them grow.

The ancient forests of knowledge
hidden in dusky, musty library stacks
have become my land. My mind, my tree
of knowledge, thrives. It is all I have.
On this moonless night everything
telescopes, clarifies. Brightness erupts
from inky black. The dark night of the soul
is really a form of enlightenment.

I fall on my knees, praying to No God.
The god of no. I sway in the wind, yearning
to be struck, to plummet, to become the abyss
that annihilates, that looks into me. Oh,
the ecstasy of descent! I cry for it.

Mindful One, she thinks too much. She dwells
inside her head, sips the ink of books too
often. For all her lofty talk about meaning
and nature, she lives indoors, estranged.
Reconciliation is possible. The priest
intones, you are dust and to dust you shall
return. So it shall be. A reunion.

Yes! A gorgeous reunion. A gorgeous death.
It shall be as it is, unless it is as it shall
be. Remember, nascentes morimur. The voice is
relentless, paralyzing. Death, inevitable from
the beginning of my existence. My destiny, our
destiny, is to become nothing.

Not so, whisper the trees. Willow weeps over my
rigid despair. A pine tree caresses my hair.
You do not become nothing. You become everything.

The body becomes a corpse. The corpse rots, feeds
maggots and beetles, enriches the soil. A squirrel
foraging embeds a nut, forgets it. The nut germinates.
A sapling grows, slowly. Outside of time. Watching over.
Witnessing the Mystery. There’s always looking after.

-Kathryn Harper

I wrote this poem 20 years ago, following this exercise from The Practice of Poetry:

This exercise comes from page 119 of The Practice of Poetry: Writing Exercises From Poets Who Teach, edited by Robin Behn and Chase Twichell. The goal of the exercise is to write a poem that includes these twenty suggesetions:

1. Begin the poem with a metaphor.
2. Say something specific but utterly preposterous.
3. Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.
4. Use one example of synesthesia.
5. Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.
6. Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.
7. Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.
8. Use a word (slang?) you've never seen in a poem.
9. Use an example of false cause-effect logic.
10. Use a piece of "talk" you've actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don't understand).
11. Create a metaphor using the following construction: "The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . . ."
12. Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.
13. Make the persona in the poem do something he/she would not do in "real life."
14. Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.
15. Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.
16. Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.
17. Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that finally makes no sense.
18. Use a phrase from a language other than English.
19. Make a nonhuman object say or do something human (personification).
20. Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that "echoes" an image from earlier in the poem. 

One Afternoon

One Afternoon

Bellied up to the kitchen counter
I bite into a pear and chew,
watching the empty hammock shimmy
in the yard. The wind sweeps gray
cotton balls overhead, rushing
them to some destination eastward.
Rubies and topaz fall from tree
branches. I stare, mesmerized,
as juice drips from my chin.

-Kathryn Harper

“The Perfect Pear” by David Gallagher, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 

The Big Box of Crayons

 

 

 And... even if your box is small, more shades can be made when you mix them.

Practice

The art journal practice is strong. Some days I do one page and others result in several. The process draws me into wordless intuition. It's a little mysterious. I always enjoy it and like the results, and sometimes I feel as though a bit of magic unfolded. Today felt like that.

Walk Off the Earth - Fireflies

You would not believe your eyes
If ten million fireflies
Lit up the world as I fell asleep
'Cause they fill the open air
And leave teardrops everywhere
You'd think me rude but I would just stand and stare

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems

'Cause I'd get a thousand hugs
From ten thousand lightning bugs
As they tried to teach me how to dance
A foxtrot above my head
A sock hop beneath my bed
A disco ball is just hanging by a thread

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems
I fall asleep

Leave my door open just a crack
(Please take me away from here)
'Cause I feel like such an insomniac
(Please take me away from here)
Why do I tire of counting sheep?
(Please take me away from here)
When I'm far too tired to fall asleep
(Please take me, please take me away from here)

To ten million fireflies
I'm weird 'cause I hate goodbyes
Got misty eyes as they said farewell (we sailing away)
But I'll know where several are
If my dreams get real bizarre
'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar (we sailing away)

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems (we sailing away)
I'd like to make myself believe (believe)
That planet Earth (turn, turns) turns slowly (slowly)
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems (I fall asleep)
I'd like to make myself believe
Planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
Because my dreams are bursting at the seams

Marcel The Shell With Shoes On | Official Trailer HD | A24

If you ever get a chance to watch this quirky movie, you won't regret it. That is, if you enjoy movies about love, connection, grief, joy, and wonder.  

Haiku

Bookended by oaks

glowing sunset confection,

sweet sherbet colors.

-Kathryn Harper

Haiku

Oh, Mother Morro!

Steadfast refuge for wildlife;

sacred ancient land.

-Kathryn Harper

She Said Hello

        She Said Hello

She said 'Hello, I’m digging

sand nests' and handed 

out shovels.

Seagulls lurked nearby

shouting manic laughter

keeping an eye open

for unattended food.

Farther along the beach,

six shrieking dervishes

flirt with the water’s edge.

And the kelp garlands

strewn across rocks

host a caucus of starlings.

-Kathryn Harper

Happy Solstice

I was born a few days after summer solstice, and I have always thrived on light.

Very soon I will visit a place where the sun shines about 23 hours a day this time of year. Alaska!

This summer I ease into trusting potential. I embrace the new and stretch into awareness. I celebrate this experience. 

Desert People

"I think there are desert people and then there is everyone else. It takes something specific to flourish in the desert, to find its beauty obvious, to take root and weather the dry heat, the epic and swift flash floods. Only certain people figure out how to blossom in a landscape that wears its bones on the outside, where scorpions wander in the front door and tarantulas have migrating seasons." - E.A. Hanks 

AMORIRI (Official Video)

Shamanic, animistic, primal, intense, and gorgeous. Discovered while at Ecstatic Dance. A shorter version is in rotation on my music service.

 

Oh, to Bee a Flower

Upstate NY Autumn Light