Phoenix (Draw a Bird Day)
blood of water, woods, earth–
birth in death
breath transforming air into wind, wild
child of the dawn,
eons compressed between
unseen boundaries
freezing in hard fire, ashes becoming
humming sounds, wings
singing legends, serving the sky,
high above the morning star glowing
blowing currents ancient, storied–
blood of water, woods, earth
I don’t have any new bird art, but thought I would do a post on the Phoenix, as I knew I had a few pieces of both art and poetry that feature this mythical bird.
The Phoenix is most associated with Greek mythology, though firebirds are features of cultures all over the world. Some think the Egyptian Bennu bird, a manifestation of the sun god Ra, is the source of the Greek myth. Other related birds include the Chinese Fenghuang, the Hindu Garuda, the Jewish Milcham, the Slavic Firebird, the Persian Simurgh, and the Native American Thunderbird. Early Christians adopted the Phoenix as a symbol of the immortal soul and the resurrection of Jesus.
There are a few variations of the myth. They all agree that the Phoenix is long-lived, anywhere from 500 years to thousands. It resides in Paradise, or nests in the Tree of Life, or lives in the City of the Sun. It always rises from the ashes of its predecessor, but often it first builds a nest of herbs and spices that is ignited by a spark from the sun. Sometimes it sings a haunting farewell song. And in some stories it constructs a cremation egg and puts the previous Phoenix’s ashes inside.
I did two posts on the I Ching Hexagram #30 (Fire/Clarity) which both referenced the Phoenix, although in the second collage I represented the rising bird with an owl.
#30 Li Clarity
“Shed your light into the darkness of other lives—with joy accept the connection with all things and be a part of it.”—dreamhawk.com
To enter
you must meet, then turn
back. You must
return and
then leave. You must find words that
disconnect meaning.
Now burning,
now drowning, the waves
washing pure
energy
down dark deep, spiraling wheels
across the cosmos,
Unbridged nets
capturing sudden
stillness—wings
emerging,
multiplying time with fire–
opening beyond.
I also wrote a Phoenix haiku for the Pure Haiku theme of Celestial Bodies in 2018
Your ashes illume,
cradled beyond day and night –
great is the unknown
As a symbol of regeneration and spiritual renewal, the Phoenix represents the ideas of time and eternity, and creation and destruction. It is also thought to be a guardian of sacred sites, and a protector of ancient wisdom.
Nnenna Okore
Wonderful art from the Kick-About inspired by new-to-me artist Nnenna Okore
Abstract Expressions
This week’s Kick-About takes it’s inspiration from the varied work of Abstract Expressionist Lee Krasner.
Odyssey (Thursday Doors Writing Challenge)
My mind discusses possibilities with itself, running continuous films of monochromatic narratives without chapters or sequences, captioned with words too blurred to read. The past is always fast-forwarding, as images and dialogue unravel and recombine in ways both mesmerizing and terrifying, full of could haves, should haves, and what ifs.
I feel sometimes as if I am already a ghost—not who I think I am—and who is it I think I am anyway?—existing nowhere I can locate in this world. I have already moved far beyond it, or perhaps I never arrived. I am governed by screens that stand between me and me, that render my actual position unknowable.
Am I astronaut, explorer, pilgrim, avatar? Or am I but a mote of dust in the eye of the shadow of a consciousness that contains no self at all?
drifting in landscapes
of lost memories drawn in
faded black and white
Teagan’s art appealed to me because it seemed to contain so many stories. I started off thinking about my childhood (that car looks so familiar), but when I began writing it became something else. Best to follow the muse I find. And I know Teagan’s also been considering that nagging question: Who am I?
My second offering for the Thursday Doors Writing Challenge, open for the entire month of May, and hosted by Dan Antion. Anyone can join–you can see all the doors available to inspire you here.
MOMA PS1 (Thursday Doors)
center me–
look beyond limits,
examine
and reflect–
virtuosity questions
expands opens mends
I thought I would highlight doors and art from my visit last summer to PS1, a branch of the Museum of Modern Art in Queens, since one of the shows I saw was the Melissa Cody weaving exhibit, which was the inspiration for my Kick-About collage this week, below.
Here’s another of Cody’s Spider Woman weavings.
Cody often combines the traditional techniques of her Navajo ancestors with modern motifs, as in another of my favorites in the show, “I Am Navajo Barbie”, below.
After the initial door, at the top, there are two more doors to go through before you get to the actual PS1 museum space.
First, a sidewalk flanked by courtyards which look like they are used for outdoor events.
And then a walk across another courtyard to the steps that lead up to the main doors.
You can easily tell from the inside of the building that this was once a school.
The other artist whose work I wanted to see that day was Pacita Abad. A Filipino-American artist and activist, she worked in many media, including textiles, and often included mask motifs.
My very favorite finds that day were these paper wall sculptures Abad created. I love everything about them.
What a fascinating life she had, traveling the world, working and teaching for human rights, and absorbing and incorporating into her own work the earth’s many traditional arts and cultures.
I was also enchanted by the staircases in the museum, which all included their own art.
My poem is an acrostic shadorma for Tanka Tuesday, where shadorma is the form chosen by Cheryl, and W3, where Jennifer asked for an acrostic using as both subject and acrostic some word related to “bond”. I chose “cleave” which is a word I’ve always liked because it has opposite meanings. Looking at art like this cleaves me in all senses.
You can read more about Melissa Cody and her exhibit at PS1 here.
And there’s a detailed biography and more art from the extraordinary Pacita Abad here.
And you can visit the PS1 website here. There’s a photo of the original school building on the about page, here.
And look for more doors, as always, at Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion.
September 2024
Milky Way–
river of transmigration–
celestial birds reach
across the seasons–
a conduit
between worlds
mackerel
clouds constellated of light,
harvested from growing
darkness, shorter days–
nets of wonder
pull me in
brevity
overtakes me—remaining
heat lingers, dissipates–
skies unfold as stars,
crystallized with
clarity
A seox sequence for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, where she provided kigo words Milky Way, mackerel clouds, and remaining heat. It does not look or feel like autumn here yet, but the city does seem to be holding it’s breath, waiting.
Both my parents were born in September, and my father died a few months after September 11, so the month always has a melancholy tinge for me. Rosanne Cash captures the feeling well in her last duet with her father.
Christmas in July
we thaw
the winter nights
with red and green—holly,
poinsettias, wreaths, bows–
warm under quilts
of stars
Teagan is running a Christmas in July celebration in an attempt to both cheer us up and cool us down. You may not know but in my previous life I was, among other things, a sweater designer, and I designed many a (famously ugly) Christmas sweater. I’ve actually chosen some of the least offensive ones to feature in this post.
Following the theme, I decided to use Winter kigo words and do another Badger’s Hexastich for Tanka Tuesday. Holly and poinsettias are both winter seasonal plants.
And since this is a light-hearted post, I’ve included a seasonal limerick for the W3 prompt of the clock faces, below, provided by Celestial.
The clock in our head says July–
“too hot!” is our echoing cry.
Let’s pretend it’s December
and try hard to remember
when the cold was in ample supply.
And last, but not least, I’m including my favorite fun Santa song, in answer to Teagan’s post today. Every year my daughters threaten to give me this CD for Christmas.
Merry Christmas in July!
Labyrinthine (Thursday Doors)
“Our steps trace a map,
fictions, in place of answers.”
–Sun Hesper Jansen, Danse Macabre
I am dancing with myself, or perhaps just an invisible partner–a mirror image—the opposite of me. None of us has a recognizable form. I have learned not to look too closely at what isn’t there.
Yet each day I rearrange the unseen patterns, constructing a new facade. I pretend that I am who I don’t appear to be, folding everything that doesn’t fit anywhere into a cabinet of hidden curiosities. Boxes and boxes of me that will never be revealed. A riddle that repeats itself, over and over, inside the shadows.
unlike birds, my bones
are dense, unfeathered—gardens
in a secret vase
Frank at Dverse asked for a haibun that considers the Japanese idea of Mono no Aware–transience, pathos, the ephemerality of life. I thought the endless mirror photo from the Thursday Doors Writing Challenge, above, by S. W. Berg via Oddments, fit that idea well. I’ve also included the kigo word of gardens for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge.
And some art from past Kick-About prompts.
You can find more doors, as always, and lots of responses to the Writing Challenge photos, at Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion.
method two madness 
Recent Comments