Moon Doors (Thursday Doors)
The moon has
maneuvered itself
into my sunrise window
For weeks it was
only seen inside
the witching hours
What coastline
does it follow
within the seas of night?
My dreams are
surrounded by empty skies
waiting for change
I look for patterns,
some kind of lunar logic
to close my inner gaps
Mystified,
I remain subject to
the moon’s cyclical whims
I was looking for some doors to use with a moon poem I had written and I remembered I had photos of a group of houses on West End Avenue with arched entrances to doors with circular windows. They were taken at two different times, but covered most of the doors.
I did not realize that the houses on West End Avenue were once a wraparound to the similar house on 79th street with an identical doorway. Why was there a strange white house now in between?
The red houses were designed by architect Frederick B White to be a “single composition”. He was only 24 when he designed them, and tragically died just after they were completed in 1886. I’m actually surprised that all but one of the houses have survived intact.
The outlier was “updated” after WWI by its owner Harry H Lang. Architects Sterner and Wolfe redesigned the house in a mock-Tudor style, more popular at the time than the original Queen Anne building.
The Daytonian, as usual, has a detailed history of the various residents over the years. One was Aimee Hutchinson, who became an ardent suffragette after being fired from her teaching job for marching in the Women Suffrage parade in 1912. Another was Fritz “Cupid” Podzius, a marriage broker, who “reportedly arranged about 20,000 marriages although he himself never married”.
The Daytonian article, written in 2012, indicates that most of the houses had been broken up into apartments. I remember that to be true from my apartment-hunting days, but my current research shows that most, if not all, have been restored to pricey single homes. The corner house is under construction; it sold in 2021 for 5.5 million dollars.
383 has a For Sale sign out front, but StreetEasy said it was delisted. Either way you can see photos and a floor plan here. 389 has a video on StreetEasy from its sale in 2022, here, and also photos and a floor plan. And you can see the listing for 305 W 78 St here, which sold in 2021 for just over 6 million. It has a staff room and studio on the roof.
There are also some nice photos of the architectural detail on the West End Avenue houses at NewYorkitecture, here.
And here’s my morning moon–a welcome sight. My poem is a triversen, as suggested by Merril at dVerse.
And don’t forget to look at all the doors at Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion.
Year of the Rabbit
time to
slow down—focus
on healing, connections–
become the current, flow
deep into e
motion
This year is supposed to be a calm respite after the 2022 Tiger Year. A year when our seeds will bear their karmic fruit.
Red is always an auspicious color for Chinese New Year, and Rabbit is associated with the moon. But it’s also the Year of the Water Rabbit, highlighting emotions, instincts, and flexibility
I drew a number of rabbits with brush and ink on rice paper, and then copied and collaged them with flowers, putting some on moon backgrounds. The other ones will show up from time to time.
The Year of the Rabbit is supposed to be lucky. One website I visited said that “Life will get better soon.” Fingers crossed.
Happy Lunar New Year!
St Ignatius Loyola Church (Thursday Doors)
Doctrine
I summon the sun I summon the moon
God the Father Mother Mary
worship His light circle the seasons
above all intermingled
powerful nurturing
sovereign beneficent
the beginning and the end always returning
St Ignatius Loyola Church, “designed in the Baroque manner by Ditmars and Schickel”, is located on the Upper East Side of Manhattan on Park Avenue. It was dedicated in 1898 and landmarked in 1969. The front doors are large, angular, and imposing.
It houses several schools in the surrounding buildings.
The side doors are all different, but have half-moons above them to form arched entrances.
I really liked all the details of this one.
The parish, administered by the Jesuits, was founded in 1851 by Irish Catholics who fled the Potato Famine for a better life in America. This building was designed, according to the website, following the Jesuit philosophy of “honoring god through beauty and permanence.” The church has a well-known music program and contains a 30-ton pipe organ almost as large as a subway car. You can see interior photos here.
My poem is for the W3 challenge where Punam asked us to respond to her poem “Slavery” by writing about the moon from the sun’s perspective or vice versa. I’ve written a cleave poem, which doesn’t exactly answer the prompt, but gives both points of view. Many of the world’s major religions seem to take the patriarchal view of the sun, but they would do well, in my opinion, to pay more attention to the circular wisdom of the moon.
Find more doors here with host Dan Antion.
October 2021
fallen leaves
the crunch of footsteps
clear blue sky
reflecting the rain
changeable skywind spatters
colors patterned light
full moon of autumn appears
leaves too soon amidst hopes of endless harvest
fragments linger, gold glittering
stars remember every invisible map
imprinted on the approaching dark
paradigm
earth saturated with bonfires and bones
Two haiku and a sevenling for October and Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday theme, suggested by Franci Hoffman, the harvest moon. The photos are of September’s full moon traveling across the southern sky outside my window. In the first one, it’s half reflected on the window pane.
The artwork is the first page, front and back, of a handmade paper journal I bought on Etsy. I bought three, one each for myself and my sisters-in-law, as we all have great intentions to do art journals–and hopefully this will get us going. I painted the page, and stitched over the front with a technique I’ve been wanting to try. Since the color bled through the paper, I did a small autumn grid on the back.
Happy October!
halfway (Thursday doors and more)
mark not words, but boundaries–
you call them kindred
because they verge on your dreams
waves of receding
spirits returning like stars,
still and glittering
naked and exposed inside the lens of your life
My first sevenling poem, for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge with synonyms for family and peace.
I took the above photo on Broadway, somewhere in the 80s I think. If you look closely you can see my headless figure.
This door belongs to a Con Ed substation at 110th and Amsterdam. The building itself is unmemorable, but I like the design of the door.
I spotted these flowers a few weeks ago when walking in Riverside Park. I had never seen what I thought to be an oak tree flowering before.
I could not figure out its identity until this weekend I saw it had seed pods. They were instantly identifiable online–jimson weed.
A toxic member of the nightshade family, although it does have medicinal and hallucinogenic uses. Evidently animals know to steer clear, but humans fall prey to its effects on a regular basis, not always accidentally.
And I wanted to share the view of the tower of light taken from my window Saturday night.
You can join in Thursday doors here.
Ibis (Draw a Bird Day)
ibis
graceful, silent
keeper and creator
measuring magic by the moon
Thothbird
For Colleen’s #TankaTuesday poet’s choice and for Draw a Bird Day, a didactic cinquian.
The Egyptian god Thoth was often represented as an ibis, or an ibis-headed man. Like the sacred ibis bird, he was associated with knowledge, wisdom and the moon, but also much more. Scribe to the gods, he taught men to write. He was the reckoner of time, “he who balances”, a scientist and magician.
Millions of ibis birds were mummified in Ancient Egypt as offerings to Thoth. The sacred ibis is now regionally extinct in Egypt, although it is still found in other Sub-Saharan African lands.
One species of ibis found in eastern American coastal regions is the glossy ibis. From a distance it appears to be a mostly uniform dark color, but close up its feathers become an iridescent rainbow.
Today is #WorldMigratoryBirdDay. The glossy ibis flocks that breed along the NE coast migrate to the Gulf of Mexico for wintering. As with all shore dependent migratory birds, saving our natural shorelines are one key to their survival.
Also linking to earthweal open link weekend.
when skies tendril (May 2021)
It’s May! I haven’t done any artwork for a month, having used art from the archives for my April NaPoWriMo posts at kblog. So it felt good yesterday to ignore the moving boxes and pull out my watercolors and paint. I did two paintings, below–a landscape and some impressionistic flowers.
I then cut them into one inch strips and wove them together for my grid. I also did some further experiments, cutting some of the strips into one inch squares and arranging them in different ways. But that’s for another day with more time to think.
The moon visited me at dawn yesterday. It was dancing with the clouds. The Oracle managed to insert it into my May verse. Well we know how She feels about the moon.
wild winds grow full
of flowers
listen to Maysongs
birds seeding spring air
with gardens rooted deep
in the fertile paths
that follow the wandering moon
October 2020 (Harvest Moon)
autumn dance
condensed into light–
I become
gold tinged with tides,
rising and falling
I did a similar grid with circles a few years ago, but I’ve always wanted to give it another try. As with the last one, I first painted a landscape (wishing I had my gouache, but done with watercolor), then cut it up, rearranged it, and added collage dots from my collage box. Here’s the original landscape:
David Hockney-ish I think. Not my usual style, and perhaps a bit brighter than I intended. But I like the colors.
I’ve done a tanka for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday form challenge, which also works for Frank Tassone’s challenge of harvest moon. The paint oracle is totally responsible for turning my moon painting into a tree.
My new view of the full moon. I have to catch it when it passes between the buildings.
Happy October!
wings
Inspired by Nina’s butterfly rock, above, a collaboration with the Oracle.
spirit wanderer
life must shine beneath
this summer moon
breathe bright breezes
through flowering light
walk on air
let the nightsong
follow you home
Last night the rain kept me from seeing the moon, but I did capture it the night before.
Solstice Moon
horizon
trails flames of solstice–
moon shines dark
Inspired by Nina’s gouache painting, above, and Frank Tassone’s #Haikai challege to choose our own summer kigo.
Nina’s painting made me think of flowers and butterflies. And when I saw the photo of Martha Graham dancing in the Times, I felt immediately that she must be holding the moon.
Summer solstice this year coincides with a solar eclipse of the new moon. Magic is afoot!
method two madness 
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