fragments (Thursday Doors)

rippled reflections
absorb memories–
what is it I see
inside the portaled
window?  is it time

resting in between
the image and the
mirror?  do dreams be
come shadows, or does
penumbra exist

outside consciousness?–
abstract yet present,
a mirage cast on
the edges, along
the margins of thought–

each cell concealed yet
illuminated–
concentrated spells
holding a lost world
hoping to be found–

and if I entered,
what would be revealed?
a hollow yearning?
or a hidden wish,
waiting to come true?

This week I went looking for a house and door in my archives with mirrored glass to match the poem I had composed for Tia Jain’s W3 prompt to write about “the bittersweet, painful, or unsettling aspects of the past and its hold on the present” using shadows or reflections.

I remembered crossing the street deliberately to look more closely at the reflections in the window glass, but only the general location of the building. I actually managed to locate it fairly quickly with the number of the address–48. It turned out to be on West 91 Street.

I could not get a great photo of the arched window because of the tree, but I managed to get the angel guardians in the stone below. The door was clearly relocated from the parlour floor to the garden floor, but at least they did not strip the house of all its details.

The house was constructed in 1888. It’s architect, William H Boylan, evidently designed all the houses on the block–number 22 through number 52. Yet this one alone got my attention enough for me to cross the street and photograph it. I’ll have to make another visit to see what I missed. But something in this particular building called to me.

The bottom duplex is for rent–a mere $11,500/month. It’s considerably bigger than my apartment and has a huge kitchen and a garden, but still…(see it here on Streeteasy)

The poetic form is a square poem, which I altered to not only have 5 stanzas with 5 lines each, but to be 5 syllables per line.

And look for more doors at Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion,

Gifts from Nina

absent friend
remains a presence
inside each
creation–
inhabiting countless threads
woven into years

Nina says she has not been doing artwork lately, but she sent me the wonderful painting at the top of the post for Christmas. We’ve been exchanging art for all the years of our friendship; above is the very first piece of art she gave me, in 1977, when we worked together as textile designers at Fairtex Mills. Which means we’ve been friends for almost 50 years.

And here’s a card I received from her this week. Our friendship is what started this blog, and even when she’s not posting, her spirit is a guiding force. Thanks Nina!

Shadorma is the featured form on Robbie’s Spin the Bottle this week.

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.

Ghosts (Thursday Doors)

I thought I
saw the ghost of Superman
shimmering inside screens,
finding the Kryptonite,
transforming Lies
into Truth

When I went to the library to see a textile exhibit last week, I realized I had forgotten the phone booths that I had photographed when I went to see an exhibit last year of photos from the Arctic. I meant to post them long ago along with the Arctic art. But better late than never (the textiles will have to wait).

They evidently don’t work, but I’m glad they’ve kept them around, as a reminder of my youth, when you were not expected to be staring at a tiny screen, available 24 hours a day. Also a time when the idea of integrity still had some value

It turned out a lot of the photographs related very well to Thursday doors. The above two, of a winter hut and a skin tent, were taken by John Lapham Dunmore and George P Critcherson during an expedition to the Arctic in 1873.

Evgenia Arbugaeva’s haunting images of her native Siberia were taken in 2019.

Taken in northern Canada in 2007, these are by Scarlett Hooft.

And in serendipity with recent news, these two houses in Greenland were photographed by Tina Itkonen in 2017.

Here’s the sextant used by Robert Peary during his Arctic expedition.

My poem is a seox, the form proposed by Robbie in her new Spin the Bottle challenge, in answer to the W3 prompt by Sarah for a short poem about renewal. We could use a bit of Superman to repair all the broken pieces of our world right now.

Sebastian Copeland’s “Iceberg” from 2008

And don’t forget to visit Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion, where you’ll always find lots of beautiful doors from around the world.

Just like I remembered them…

Wu Guanzhong

The first Kick-About of the year offers the usual wide variety of delights.

Keeping Time (Thursday Doors)

unseen pendulum
counts out the passing of days–
I try to escape,

deflect its movement–
employing useless ruses,
futile sleights of hand—

those arrogant hours
gaze unflinching and unmoved
by all my attempts—

my disguises, masks,
shadows cast into riddles–
overruled by years

The Delacorte Clock in Central Park, part of the Zoo grounds, was unveiled in 1965. A gift from philanthropist George Delacorte, who was inspired by the animated clocks he saw on his trips to Europe, it is a collaboration between several designers. Spanish artist Fernando Texidor and American architect Edward Coe Embury conceived of the basic structure, and the bronze animals were designed by Italian sculptor Andrea Spadini.

The animals–a penguin, kangaroo, bear, elephant, goat and hippo–rotate every half hour and play a series of tunes–which would have been seasonal holiday tunes when I visited in December, but the rest of the year consist of mostly nursery rhymes–while two monkeys on the top bang a brass bell. As one article I read said: “It’s not always in working order” because it must be constantly cleaned to remain operational. It didn’t appear to be working the day I was there anyway, unfortunately.

You can see close ups of the animals here. And here’s a video of the clock chiming (though I have to admit I have know idea what tune it’s playing…)

When you enter the zoo via Fifth Avenue, you approach by way of The Arsenal. I knew nothing about the building before doing research for this post, but it has an interesting history. The second oldest building in Central Park, it was designed by Martin E Thompson and constructed in 1851 as a munitions supply depot for the New York State Militia. When the city allocated the land for Central Park, they bought the building and its surrounding grounds.

The Arsenal was almost torn down many times; but after several renovations, in 1934 it became (and remains) the headquarters of the City Parks Departments. In between it served as a police precinct and weather bureau, and was the original location of the collections of the American Museum of Natural History, with exhibits open to the public.

Starting in 1859 it also served as a menagerie, which one article said was housing for the animals of PT Barnum. Containing animal cages both inside (for a few years) and outside the building, the menagerie was a popular attraction. The actual Zoo, built and funded through the WPA, opened in the 1930s. Now part of the Wildlife Conservation Society, the Zoo was renovated in the 1980s to be more animal-friendly, with an emphasis on education and conservation.

The Arsenal was landmarked in 1967.

There are evidently WPA murals and an art gallery inside (the next exhibit opens the end of January), so I’ll have to make a trip back to check out the interior.

This little building, looking a lot like a guard house, is by the Zoo entrance inside the park.

I revised the poem I wrote for the Kick About this week for the W3 prompt from Suzanne to use a Japanese poetry form–I used a senryu chain–on the subject of yutori. The definition of yutori I picked was “time (to spare)

And don’t forget to check out all the other doors at Thursday Doors, hosted by Dan Antion.

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.

Joaquin Torres-Garcia

Some geometry from the Kick About to begin the New Year.

New Years Day 2025

1
Patterns are birthed in never and always,
seeded both by chance and intention.

2
Seasons are woven into wheels
that encompass an infinite present.

3
The horizon is not a dividing line
but a seam that stitches distances together.

4
A circle is a map that is placeless,
a tide that reflects the journey of cosmic light.

5
The ritual of return is a portal
that takes absence and refills it with time.

I did these birdling-inspired figures for the Kick-About prompt of Solstice, after reading about the Hopi winter solstice celebration, Soyal. You can find an explanation of my process, and see the other responses, here. I thought that both the images and the idea of the return of light were appropriate to welcome in 2025. The poem was partly inspired by a photo of Stonehenge that I came across when cleaning out my office and also some of my recent dreams.

I didn’t know when I did the plumed serpent that 2025 is the Chinese Year of the Snake, but that felt apt as well.

2025 is also a Hermit Tarot year. May our inner lights lead us forward onto a path that leaves the darkness behind.

Happy New Year!

Chickadee (Draw a Bird Day)

(for Ada Limón)

Is it enough / to watch the tiny birds / the chickadee chattering
the sparrow perched / Inside the sparrow tree / proclaiming its prophecies?
I can’t follow / the patterns of the songs /  far enough to enter them–
what does it mean / this faith in each moment / certain of nothing but now?

At one of our visits to the Botanical Garden, we saw and heard a tiny bird in a bush by the path. We watched it with delight for many minutes. It was very busy, flitting from branch to branch, eating, totally unfazed by our presence. The chick-a-dee-dee song identified it easily. But these birds have a large and complex array of other language-like calls as well.

The summer diet of chickadees consists primarily of insects, but in winter it uses seeds, berries and plant matter to supplement its diet. Chickadees have excellent spatial memory, and have no trouble locating the many seeds they hide to carry them through the colder seasons, as they do not migrate. Social animals, they are often seen in flocks with other small woodland birds such as nuthatches and warblers.

Native to North America, chickadees are common throughout the northern United States and Canada.

My poem is a sekar ageng, David’s form for the Tanka Tuesday prompt this week. It was inspired by Ada Limón’s wonderful work, “The End of Poetry”, which you can read here.

I will be taking a break until the new year. Enjoy your December and all its festivities!