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.
Inca Jay (Draw a Bird Day)
I swim inside a cloud sea, surrounded by color and sound, under a canopy of mossy green. All my senses are awake. Red, yellow and purple orchids emerge from the ferns that line the winding path. Flashes of iridescence appear and disappear in patterns that remember lost dreams. The air is alive.
voices intersect
in layered complexity–
wings flash silver skies
The Inca Jay, like all corvids, is an intelligent and social bird. Native to the cloud forests of the Andes, it has proven adaptable to diverse ecosystems, and so has not yet become endangered like a large number of other cloud forest species have because of deforestation and habitat destruction.
Living in flocks of up to 30 birds, Inca jays have developed complex vocalizations which they use to communicate while foraging. Their diet consists of fruits, insects and small reptiles–they are integral to the control of pests in the forest and also play a key role in seed distribution.
Although breeding pairs are monogamous and mate for life, they practice cooperative breeding, where non-breeding birds assist in raising the group’s chicks.
My haibun was inspired by Frank’s dVerse subject of silver. The International Cloud Atlas classifies the fog of the Cloud Forest as stratus silvagenitus–“created from forest”.
Hispanic Society of America (Thursday Doors)
My shadow follows nobody’s rules, not even its own. Rules mean nothing to it. What is a shadow? I doubt if it ever considers what its existence means at all.
I can’t define my identity either. My blood is a mixture of many nationalities—none can claim me as their own. And yet. My shadow keeps casting me into one of my many ancestral rivers.
It seems to have a preference for the Spanish-speaking branch, singing to me over and over again in the second language of New York City, the place I came to live at age nineteen and never left. Is that why this city has always felt like home?
Or perhaps it’s because this place offers me a mirror into the entirety of the world contained in my genes–multitudes of intersecting pathways, alive with a kaleidoscope of dreams. A place for my shadow to find lucency.
inside the sweetness
of tropical fruit, colors
of unfiltered light
I went to the Hispanic Society Museum last weekend because I wanted to see Adriana Varejão’s large ceramic plates and it was my last chance to visit them. But of course before I went in, I had to take photos of the surrounding doors.
The museum is located on Audubon Terrace, at 155th Street and Broadway. I lived a few blocks away for many years, and had gone to there with family visiting from out of town, but I hadn’t been there since its renovation.
The complex also houses the main Boricua College campus. “Founded by Puerto Ricans in New York City, Boricua College is a private, not-for-profit liberal arts institution designed to meet the educational needs of Puerto Ricans, Latino-Hispanic, and other students underrepresented in higher education.” (from the college website, here)
The main entrance to Boricua is on Broadway, but these side doors are really beautiful. I’m glad they were preserved along with the original facade.
This is not the main entrance to the museum, but its doors have lovely details as well.
Here’s the main entrance, below, which also has distinctive doors.
Across from the main entrance is a famous sculpture by Anna Hyatt Huntington, El Cid, which has been embellished with a snake by Adriana Varejão as part of her exhibit.
The main hall inside housed the ceramic plates.
Varejão titled this group of works Don’t Forget, We Come From the Tropics. The images she created are a tribute to the Amazon forest’s ecology, art, and culture. The backs of the plates are beautiful too.
The upper floor of the museum was closed–I think they were preparing a new exhibit–but there was also a display on the first floor of Iberian ceramics from Archer Huntington’s collection. He founded the Hispanic Society and paid for the building of the complex, which also once housed the American Numismatic and Archeological Society, the American Geographical Society, and the Museum of the American Indian. The other original tenant, The American Academy of Arts and Letters, is still located at Audubon Terrace.
If you want to know more about the detailed and colorful history of Archer Huntington and Audubon Terrace, The Daytonian has a long and photo-filled article, here. In 2017, when he wrote about it, I had been living nearby for quite a few years. The neighborhood was primarily Dominican, and though it was in need of some renovation (and where in NYC is not?), it was a vibrant community, and Audubon Terrace was an integral part of it.
My poem (much revised–time to let it go) is in answer to Bob’s W3 prompt, to respond to his poem using the phrase “nobody’s rules”, along with metaphor, to “explore themes of persistence, belonging, growth, or survival”. We are all looking for a place to belong.
And don’t forget to explore all the doors at Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion.
The Hispanic Society Museum website is here. And you can read more about Adriana Varejão and her work here.
Blue Footed Booby (Draw a Bird Day)
Blue feet dance
quixotic love songs
sky pointing
The blue footed booby lives on the western coasts of Central and South America. Its name comes from the Spanish word for foolish or clown-like, bobo, and its vivid turquoise blue feet.
Boobies are curious and tame around people, and many of the photos I found showed them seemingly posing somewhat goofily for the camera. They are often photographed doing their mating dance, in which they flaunt their blue feet, and raise wings, tail, and beak to the sky–“sky pointing”.
Boobies are monogamous and mated birds can recognize each other by their calls. They lay their eggs on bare ground, nesting in large colonies. Half of the breeding pairs nest on the Galapagos Islands.
The female turns constantly to face the sun while sitting on the eggs, forming a circle of guano around them. This helps disguise the eggs from predators such as hawks. Boobies are quite passive when confronted by potential threats.
Outside of breeding season, boobies spend almost all their time in the water. Agile flyers, they plunge-dive from heights up to 100 feet to capture and eat their prey underwater. Because of this behavior, they breathe through the corners of their mouth–their nostrils are permanently closed. Their diet consists almost entirely of fish.
Their yellow eyes are oriented to the front, giving them excellent binocular vision.
The present booby population is around 6,000 and declining, mainly because of the decline in fish populations, especially sardines.
Memorial Day 2025
time passes
dust and bones haunting
echoed air
A repost of some words and images in memory of all those who fought and died in all of the world’s many wars. May we one day have no need to ask anyone for such a sacrifice.
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.
May 2025 Late Cherry Blossoms
Spring begins like the first page of a journal, an anticipation open to every possibility. The first tentative marks are inflused with expectation—are they image words or word images or both merged together? Can we keep the entries in chronological order or must they be unbound, tossed like a salad?
Myriad landscapes and passages become layered with intricacies of form, lines and shadows, subtle changes in hue, sudden burst of color and light. The sky beckons in blue.
pink blossoms linger
amidst newborn greenery
shifting points of view
It’s been a beautiful spring week in NYC. Above, Central Park on Tuesday.
My haibun is for Frank’s dVerse prompt, late cherry blossoms.
Great Kiskadee (draw a bird day)
Full of attitude–
predators learn to steer clear
of your boisterous wings
Opportunistic–
constantly on the lookout–
full of attitude
Kis-ka-dee you call–
declaration and warning–
predators learn to steer clear
Out in the open
you display your yellow crown
and your boisterous wings
Colleen asked me to investigate the kiskadee as that is the bird her street is named after. I wonder what inspired them to use that bird name–the only place in the United States the kiskadee resides is in south Texas along the Mexican border. 99% of the 200 million kiskadees live in Central and South America.
In Texas their habitat includes thornscrub, cactus, and elm-ash forests, but in most places they live in tropical forests near clearings and water, or in urban areas and near farms. Kiskadees avoid dense unbroken forests and are not afraid of humans.
Kiskadees are aggressive and boisterous, and will defend their territory even from larger predators. Omnivorous, their feeding behavior is opportunistic. They hunt in the open, catching insects from the air, diving for small fish, tadpoles and water snails, and foraging on land for insects, small rodents, lizards, and snakes. They frequent bird feeders and will steal dog and cat food from dishes left outdoors. They also eat fruit from bushes and trees.
Kiskadees are monogamous and build tall bulky nests, often in the forks of trees. When excited, they show off their yellow crown and often raise their wings. Hard to keep in captivity, they are rarely poached.
My poem, for Muri’s Chimera Scavenger Hunt, is a haiku cascade.
I have a few things to take care of this week, so will be offline for a little while. Hope to be back soon.
Martin Luther King Day 2025
mid-January–
voice of crow under grey skies–
how to fill the hole
“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.”
“Courage is an inner resolution to go forward despite obstacles; Cowardice is submissive surrender to circumstances. Courage breeds creativity; Cowardice represses fear and is mastered by it. Cowardice asks the question, is it safe? Expediency asks the question, is it politic? Vanity asks the question, is it popular? But conscience ask the question, is it right? And there comes a time when we must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but one must take it because it is right.”
“He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.”
“Never, never be afraid to do what’s right, especially if the well-being of a person or animal is at stake. Society’s punishments are small compared to the wounds we inflict on our soul when we look the other way.”
“We may have all come on different ships, but we’re in the same boat now.”
“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”
A combination of previous MLK posts. Let us celebrate today the leaders worth celebrating.
Victoria Crowned Pigeon (Draw a Bird Day)
in queenly fashion,
shimmering regally, you
display your lace crown
I was inspired to draw this native of New Guinea by a visit to the Central Park Zoo. Although endangered in their native habitat of lowland and swamp forest, Victoria Crowned Pigeons are common in American zoos. They are intelligent, gregarious, and easily tamed, and spend most of their time strolling and foraging on the ground. Often they are left to wander the zoo grounds, as they seldom fly except when startled or roosting for the night, making them popular with visitors.
This one was certainly happy to pose for several photographers, including myself.
The largest living species of pigeon, they are named after Queen Victoria, and are considered to be the closest remaining relative to the extinct dodo.
In the wild they eat fallen fruits, seeds, grains, and small invertebrates, and are particularly fond of figs. Even though they spend most of their time on the ground, they find ways to communicate the presence of predators and avoid them. Their numbers are decreasing because of human activity: hunting, poaching, and deforestation.
method two madness 
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