There are posters around Winston-Salem sharing Poetry in Plain Sight. I saw this one on Friday.
Love is simple
like mangos at market.
ripening beneath
uncertain fingers.
~ Kat Bodrie
5 comments on Poetry in Plain Sight
Category: Beautiful
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I have been a fan of Wassily Kandinsky ever since I first saw a picture of his work.
And it puzzled me because I don’t (didn’t) really get abstract art. And I presumed Kandinsky was doing abstracts.
I was wrong.
Recently, I was at a gallery show with artists hanging around to meet the public. (Last Friday in Hillsborough) Lolette Guthrie was one of the artists at the Hillsborough Gallery of Art and we had a very brief conversation. She explained her Summer on Pamlico Sound to me.
There is a line that is the beach. There is a line that is highway that parallels the beach. There is blue that is the ocean and there is blue that is the sound. I don’t entirely get abstraction. But, I have a better understanding.
So, a couple of months after that, I was in Charleston and there was an exhibition at the Gibbes Museum of Art that included work by Kandinsky.
I learned that there is non-objective art. Art that doesn’t represent, in whatever form, objects. Rather, it creates a mood, a feeling, using space and color and shapes. And it resonates so much for me. It is jazz for the eyes.
It just grabs me by the heart.
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THE DEAD BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD
How did a great Red-tailed Hawk
come to lie—all stiff and dry—
on the shoulder of
Interstate 5?Her wings for dance fans
Zac skinned a skunk with a crushed head
washed the pelt in gas; it hangs,
tanned, in his tentFawn stew on Hallowe’en
hit by a truck on highway forty-nine
offer cornmeal by the mouth;
skin it out.Log trucks run on fossil fuel
I never saw a Ringtail til I found one in the road:
case-skinned it with the toenails
footpads, nose, and whiskers on;
it soaks in salt and water
sulphuric acid pickle;she will be a pouch for magic tools.
The Doe was apparently shot
lengthwise and through the side—
shoulder and out the flank
belly full of bloodCan save the other shoulder maybe,
if she didn’t lie too long—
Pray to their spirits. Ask them to bless us:
our ancient sisters’ trails
the roads were laid across and kill them:
night-shining eyesThe dead by the side of the road.
~Gary Snyder
Turtle Island -
Patanjali’s 8 Limbs of Yoga
Yamas (Restraints)
– Ahimsa (non-harming)
– Satya (non-lying)
– Asteya (non-stealing)
– Brahmacharya (of Brahma)
– Aparigraha (non-hoarding)Niyamas (Observances)
– Soucha (cleanliness)
– Santosha (contentment)
– Tapas (zeal for yoga)
– Svadyaya (self-study)
– Ishvarapranidhana (surrender)Asana (pose)
Pratyahara (withdrawal of the senses)
Dharana (intense focus)
Dhyana (state of meditation)
Samadhi (state of oneness)
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Found on Tumblr this morning by following #ordinary things. I”m saving it here because I really like the poem and want to remember it in December.
http://witchesandpagans.com/sagewoman-blogs/woodspriestess/bonewind-s-return.html
Bone wind has returned
mother of winter’s chill
sweeping through bare branches
and rattling dusty leaves.The remnants of summer
have completely faded
and the doorway to the new year
has cracked open.With the skeletal swirl of frost and freeze
I see the hint
of new things
waiting to burst from behind the door.Hibernating now perhaps
hunkered down to wait it out
resting, biding time, percolating
nestled in darkness
but, oh so ready, to grow.It is only on the surface
that the world prepares to take a long nap
underneath the crust
change boils
life bubbles
new ideas gestate
and time crowns anew
with the promise and potential of birth
held in cupped hands.The flame of fresh ideas flickers
and catches
until the blaze of possibility
envelopes the cold.
I am the Audience 