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.
Steller’s Sea Eagle (Draw a Bird Day)
black
wings stretch
wide–
taloned
predators
swoop down
fast,
capture
fish, bird, fox–
what can stop them?
pollution,
climate
change,
loss of
habitat–
sepul
chral
human
greed
Steller’s Sea Eagle is one of the largest eagles in the world, and the heaviest, at up to 22 pounds, with a wingspan that can be close to nine feet. A resident of coastal northeast Asia, it breeds in Russia and migrates south to Korea, Japan, China and Taiwan. Occasionally a vagrant will be found elsewhere–one has been traveling around North America since 2020 and seems to have settled in Newfoundland.
Their feathers are dark brownish black with white shoulders, tails, and foot tufts, although occasional dark morphs have no white on their shoulders. Their beaks and talons stand out, being a bright yellow-orange.
Most of the sea eagle’s diet consists of fish, caught by diving in shallow water. Aggressive raptors, they also eat waterbirds–ducks, geese, swans, cranes, herons and gulls–and will steal mammals such as fox and mink from hunters’ traps, and scavenge carcasses of animals such as deer. They have also been known to prey on domestic dogs.
Steller’s sea eagles are monogamous and mate for life. They build and look after up to four nests in their territory, on large rocky outcroppings or in the tops of large coastal trees, moving between them to lay different clutches. Agile flyers, they have a complex spiral mating dance.
Although they have no natural predators when fully grown, their eggs are often eaten by arboreal mammals and corvids. They are endangered, as so many species are, because of human activities. The current population is around 5000.
For this month’s art, I tried doing blind contour drawings and then the same pose in a contour drawing while looking at the photo. It was an interesting exercise.
My poem is a waltz wave, incorporating black (sepulchral) for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday prompt to use our Astrological Colors (appropriately shades of black for Capricorn). The waltz wave is the poetic form from Suzanne’s W3 prompt on the theme of strength and vulnerability.
The Steller’s Sea Eagle is named after German explorer Georg Wilhelm Steller, who first noted the bird during his Russian expeditions in the 1700s. He is also the namesake of the Steller’s Jay.
Lighthouse
This week’s Kick-About is inspired by lighthouses.
Mother Magic (Thursday Doors Writing Challenge)
Once upon a time
in song and in myth
now and forevermore…
My name will be moon.
It will be water and also
moon-shining-on-water
It will be compounded by fire
and air, attached by currents
to the turning of the tides.
It will be wishes-upon-stars,
winged dreams and wild dreams,
spiraling-rivers-of-galaxies
It will be smoke-in-mirrors,
mysterious and distant,
singing spells in whispers.
It will be browns-turning-into-greens,
layers merged into glimmering
transparencies where roots abide.
My name will be the-rock-that-holds-the-sky.
It will be elemental, primordial, endless,
unlimited, immeasurable
I am the Guardian of Creation,
the-wheel-that-keeps-turning–
the doorway into the womb.
When I saw Robbie’s photo, I thought immediately of all the world’s mother goddesses.
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.
Update (Thursday Doors)
All over the city at multiple locations
buildings scaffolded due to renovations–
protection for pedestrians to avoid litigations.
So many different kinds of alterations–
some structural, invisible, correcting violations–
(many of questionable durations)–
Old facades emerge as revelations–
new life, new stories, new iterations,
A little over a year ago I photographed this church which was clearly undergoing a complete renovation, inside and out. This week I decided to check out the progress–still no real doors, but the scaffolding is off. It looks good.
The interior is still being worked on, but the top (photographed from my window) with its strangely altered roof and pyramid structures also looks near completion.
I did not investigate last year to find out exactly what was going on. It turns out the 130-year-old building, Mt Pleasant Baptist Church, was in such bad repair in 2013 that its congregation had to relocate. A plan was subsequently approved by Landmarks to save the facade and basic structure of the church by adding luxury condos (hence those pyramids…). Space would be allocated both for worship and community based education.
The apartments are actually quite tasteful and nice–if a bit pricey. You can see the plans here.
There is a running current of dissatisfaction about the proliferation of building scaffoldings, some of which remain up for years, all over the city. Our local city council member even had a contest for worst/longest standing scaffold in the neighborhood recently. Part of the problem is Local Law 11 which requires that building facades be inspected and repaired every five years. Sometimes this process takes almost the entire five years. And then it has to be done again.
The City Council keeps trying to reform and simplify the law, but there is a lot of opposition. As you can imagine, scaffolding companies and contractors have a lot of money invested in the way things are.
I think this project will be finished soon though. I’m very interested to see what the final doors look like, And I’m glad they saved and refurbished the windows.
My poem is a monorhyme quadrille for Muri’s Scavenger Hunt, and for dVerse, where the quadrille word this week, provided by Punam, is alter.
And be sure to check out all the doors at Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion.
Another Year of The Kick-About
Everyone’s favorite project from the last year of prompts–a lot of inspiration here!
Guardians (Thursday Doors)
These sculptures, these faces–
are they constructs,
ideas? or merely solid objects–
just images, representations?
How do we define their existence?
Do they include something
we cannot name?
Do they have a spirit?
Can we attach identity
to these visages–so still,
so seemingly inert?
Stone, clay–the earth’s matter
is full of stories. Where
are those stories located when
the essence of the land itself
is given human form?
Are these faces really
unchanging? Or do they
transform to fit the eyes
that meet their gaze?
What is a life but a narrative,
a placement of presence
in a building
we call time?
Is the universe a construct?
Is a season? A lifetime?
How do we find and set
the boundaries of between,
the neither and the both?
or is everything connected
by a substance that is defined
only by what it is not?
“rough edges,” by Elise Siegel
My poem was inspired by Lisa’s dVerse prompt to respond to one of the sculptural images she posted from an exhibit of busts at the Frederik Meijer Gardens and Sculpture Park–I chose the one above by Elise Siegel–and by Ooko’s W3 prompt to give voice to what is usually left unsaid.
And of course it made me think of all the guardians I’m always photographing for Thursday Doors.
I’ve also included some drawings I made of medieval sculpture (third image) and the above drawing I made of a ventriloquist’s dummy from the Vent Haven Museum. When you draw something, it reveals to you its life.
And be sure to check out all the doors at Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion.
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.
April 2025
April always has
its own ideas of spring–
today clouds, rain, warm
winds—tomorrow a chilly
sun. But the flowers persist,
insist. Robins are
everywhere–jays flying, crows-
a constant chorus
of unruly wings—sparrows
in groups, looking for handouts.
A haze of buds wait
to open and clothe the still
bare branches in green.
Refusing forecasts, April
comes uncharted—look, it says,
listen, inhale–keep
patience and senses open,
acuminous, fresh.
Suddenly spring is singing–
showers and flowers in tune.
I spent a few years of my garment center career designing prints, which in those days consisted of painting patterns in gouache. I had a rep who took a portfolio of all her artists around to different firms to sell. I still have some of the unsold designs.
For this month’s grid I cut up and rearranged two flower prints, and also did a circle collage with them as well.
Sitting in the park on Sunday, the birds and daffodils were out in force, the tree branches fuzzy with the beginnings of leaves. Even though it was grey and chilly, spring was in the air.
Here’s a fun version of “April Showers”.
method two madness 
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