Tag: a.i.Art
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29.03: Found Poetry of Ragnarök c.17
Ragnarök: Found in the Weavers c. 17 Found poetry from ‘The Elder or Poetica Edda now safe I am backin service to my silenceand soft … Suttung svikvinn …speeches whispering roadsthat made room for passingthrough rock… Suttung svikvinn … and I worked doubtinto pay back, intotrue heart’s earthly…
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26.03: Let the Last Breath Linger
Prosery: Let the Last Breath Linger some memories, like thin bells,vanishing, a song faint and low. A summer of being. Thirteen. Surrendering my mornings to the public library—piles of books, biblichor, waiting quiet as secrets. Quiet as a librarian’s finger to her lips: shush. I devoured the Dewey Decimal System. It became a fiery furnace…
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23.03: Found Poetry of Ragnarök
The Weavers c. 16 — found poetry from ‘The Elder or Poetica Edda Her joy.He — liking her love.The night to win is won. Frá rifi til dráttar He came watching—waking,burning torches, and yetmorning found her mindshrewd as day. Frá rifi til dráttar She—a bell like thunder,and a chorus of the deadsay nought for thosedrowned…
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21.03: Found Poetry of Ragnarök
Ragnarök: Found in ‘The Elder or Poetica Edda’ Weavers c. 15 The Words Fell Apart I found sunlight sleepingin the body and soul of me. Við féllum í sundur. Fairest.Fullest..She speaks in soft words. Við féllum í sundur. Plainly.Playing.This I once felt — such was the secret I knew. This is the continuation of the…
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20.03 Spring’s Arabesque
I dreamt of spring—such a strange little telling; blind, blue-eyed flowers straight from the dark brows of doom into a gentle dance. A swaying arabesque—so soft were its April eyes upon the woodland, its shock of white from a blackthorn’s blossom. There’s always a romp, a bird’s pantomime between branch and bough—a secret song, like…
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18 March: dVerse Prosery
And in the end,” she said… It’s my eleventh year, far from home, but oddly, I’m at home here—twilight in the garden, the sky open wide to a single star. It’s summer; I often sleep on the porch, and she says, “It’s not what we may be, it’s what we are.” …
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18.03 Cadralor for the Oracle
A Cadralor for the Oracle I.There’s a crow on the roof ridge,struts across it as if it’s the world,bends its wings, scolds, clamours,swears an ocean of words from itsdark battalions of creamy clouds. II.Petulant weather. Raining as ifspitting upwards by the dead.Splashing against the window,a drummed blur of silver fingersthat change tunes in whispers. III.Listen—a…
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14.03 The Oracle’s Cadralor
The Oracle Shouts Spring I. Winter was a sharp howling war, Sunday’s spring was utter calm; a day of molten glory and sun, of nights crowding stars pressed troubled faces upon the sky. II.The sea roiled rough though wind laid calm; thick-flecked with light under the light of stars, a shuffle of sands in lapsing…
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12.03: Found Poetry of Ragnarök
Ragnarök: Found in The Weavers c.14 Sliding on Ice slide through the dayas if on ice,on a slick bya flaring flame of sun, En á ísi skrípa be thee a rootless tree,a waxing wave,a brittle billow,a rooting boar, En á ísi skrípa be thee a broken blade,the whim of a child,the first own fruit,I am…
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07.03 Ex Nigro et Albo Hiemis
Ex Nigro et Albo Hiemis It’s from the east facing window that I watch spring, although this morning’s winter fog obscures the view from anything beyond the windowsill, but no matter—I’m unmoored from gloom by an amber warning to winter that blooms bright as a lantern. Yes, the crocuses are blooming; yes, the birdbath has…
It's Still Life 