Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Starlings


Flocking and flying
like dry leaves tossed by the wind
brown starlings take wing

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

High

Barranca Mesa, Los Alamos, NM

High on the mesa
A pool of green life below
Dive into beauty.

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Adobe

The making of bricks is hard
coded into our DNA
That universal recipe
--straw, dirt, water--
(and we, too, are dust)
from ancient times still
flows from our hands into
walls,
sun-baked,
that house our expulsion from paradise.

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Not.

Death is not death
merely a stepping-through
an entrance
into another world

Let go.

No, death is life
At last
I will hear and be heard
I will see and be seen
I will think and be thought of
as the true me
God intended.

No longer
will our bodies keep us
from true living
from true being
(How can what is broken walk with God?)

Step through.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Gentle Moments

Those two deer
this morning—
that crow
(flying so close
so slow
I could count
wingbeats
sun-glistening
raven wings)—
made me give thanks
for gentle moments
when I still see
beauty
in a broken world.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Blue Window

In Acoma

Set like a jewel
in humble, holy earth walls
Sky frame captures stars.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

New Mexico

View from Acoma

Land of enchantment
You beckon with open arms
My desert soul sings.



Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Cliff Walk

Monet's "Cliff Walk at Pourville" (Source: Wikipedia)

Austen-like,
they stand at
great height from the sea.
Her red parasol
puffs in the wind
and beats it back
as a regatta races
with it swift
to the horizon.
They are cliff-flowers
rooted and bound to earth
but all their thoughts
are with the waves--
blue, green, purple
frothed with white
floating an escape
or flying away with the
white swan clouds
to parts unknown.



Wednesday, July 22, 2015

I begin


On a gray morning
devoid of all color
I begin.
Sleep, stillness still reigns
not just in me
but in the delicate souls
that share my space
and give it fullness.
Next, coffee.
so I begin.

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Awaiting Pluto

Source: NASA, color added by me

Pluto looms in Horizons' eye
While we wait with baited breath
For the images it will send back
From this tiny king of death

Horizons is Pluto's Persephone
Led down to this "under" world
No longer a planet, yet Charon still leads
As around his master he twirls

We see your heart and your great, black whale
Swimming with a dark glee
Your secrets, Pluto, still yours to keep
'Til we land there one day, and see.


Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Corn Maiden Paintings


Inspired by the legend of the Corn Maiden and carved fetishes I saw in New Mexico, I painted my own interpretations of them. Watercolor and sumi ink on etegami card paper.



Wednesday, July 1, 2015

After Visiting Mars

Source: NASA

Mars is dead.
Its ancient, tired soil interred
beneath a rusty dust
Its surface, the blood-stained hue of
battlegrounds, a plain of heroes' graves.

Mars is dead.
Its heart, its core, never beat
in time to victory's drums
It never breathed or sighed
or sweated from its pock├Ęd brow.

Mars is dead.
Life ne'er emerged from frozen seas
dashed to heaven, ice flung to stars
That blast, and wind and sand
were Mars' defeat, at last.

(Ed.: I wrote this after reading "The Martian," by Andy Weir, an amazing novel about an astronaut stranded on Mars, and after reading the Wikipedia entry on Mars, as well as viewing Rover photos on NASA.)


Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Digging

Digging for Me
through the so-many layers
—close-packed
dirt layers
that resist the spade—
heaped on
by circumstance
and the World
I find:
I am still in there.

Crushed
Not lost
And one day
!Resurrection!
Light may finally shine
on that hidden pearl
at the bottom of me
that is Me.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Visit to New Mexico


Sandia Peak Tramway

Ten thousand feet high
I look down on the desert
Floating among rock giants

Acoma

Brown mesa people
In homes so near the blue sky
You almost touch God.

At Petroglyph National Monument

Jack rabbit at noon
Tall ears for hearing
Longer feet for jumping

Towards Santa Fe

Fleeing the cities
Racing on the desert roads
Stop and taste silence

Loretto Chapel

Holy step-father
Your spiral staircase is
a journey to heaven

Chimayo

Humble clay chapel
Mystery of crucifixion
healing begins

Taos

Red willow people
Watered by the Blue Lake
You are strong as adobe


Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Zoo eagle

Caged eagle
What are your thoughts?
surveying a meshed world
From a leafless tree
High but not high enough
Over a vast unemptiness?

Caged eagle
What are your dreams?
Of an unknown aerie
Launched by Brother Wind
On outspread wings
Singing over the mesa?

Caged eagle
What do you feel?
Oh--
Symbol of freedom?

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

White space


Driving north on Interstate 25 towards Santa Fe, New Mexico, my husband and I rode in the car in companionable silence. This silence was interrupted frequently by my “oohs” and “aahs” over the magnificent scenery—stretches of desert peppered with sagebrush, the snow-topped Sangre de Cristo mountains in the distance, and quite often, sandstone plateaus rising majestically from the desert floor, thrust up eons ago by Earth’s mighty geological forces. But other than my exclamations, all we could hear was the gentle whirring of our rental’s engine and the swish of air exiting the dashboard vents.

At one point, I could stand it no longer and said, “Pull over. I need a Kodak moment.” And so Dave parked on the shoulder of the road, in sight of some of the stone monuments we had been seeing all along this stretch of road.

I opened the car door and everything changed. I thought I knew what quiet was, but the sudden and complete silence of the desert surprised me. It was physical, palpable, as it rushed around me and enveloped me. Even though the road was right at my back, this silence even swallowed the noise of rushing cars. I was in a magnificent vacuum, like being left alone in a pristine space, just myself and this beautiful, endless terrain that touched an even more endless blue sky.

In graphic design, the concept of white space is very important. Empty space must be left on the page to set off the content and so that after the images and text are viewed and read, the eye can come to rest somewhere. It occurred to me that this silence WAS white space, that quiet that is so often missing in everyday life as we rush around, packing our 24 hours full to overflowing with activities, noise, images, and information. As I let the desert silence in, I was aware of a deep peace, a deep cushioning of soul and spirit, a letting-go of all the rush that had followed me on this vacation. This type of silence was health and goodness. I won’t forget it.

Endless desert space
Container of silence
Inner peace.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Inside a red tulip


Inside a red tulip
a red dwarf burns
an old sun’s final glory
shining God’s praises
then at its heart
a dark brilliance begins
racing toward the edges
towards the finish line
of stardom
a supernova of petals
or collapsing
into a black hole
that emerges into next year’s garden.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Welcome to something new


Welcome to Flores y Cantos (Flowers and Songs), a new blog that will feature my writing and original art. You may remember me from Bellas Artes, a blog I added to for a long time, where I talked about my arts and crafts projects and home life. Now I want to be more serious about my writing--I hope to include essays, memoirs, stories, book reviews--whatever I can wrap words around. I've been studying poetry and poetry writing for a year now, and so you will also see poems here. Check back each week for something new. Thanks for visiting!