Quartet

 

long after the king had thrown his feathers into the air

long after the three boys had decided to settle their affairs

the queen appeared in the form of a toad

green and wet and slippery

and she laid down the law

in the form of a great carpet

inscribed upon which was  a mazy marking

the center of which was a great tree

from which grew a beautiful wish fulfilling jewel

like crystal water that flowed into the air

and fell to the earth like the webs of a spider

made of snow

and from the roots of the tree

which spread out into the four directions

four mice scattered toward the sun

which sunk below the western horizon

and as the night settled over the land

and all the people found their rest at last

the heart of the king beat its last

and the queen had finally found surrender.

 

via Daily Prompt: Quartet

from “A Man Like Him”

“The weak-minded choose to hate,” she said. “It’s the least painful thing to do, isn’t it?”

Yiyuri Li

morning thought. . .

“Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” — Samuel Beckett

 

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from “The Three Feathers”

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“Very often we look God-knows-where for the solution of our problem and do not see that it is right in front of our noses. We are not humble enough to look downward but stick our noses up in the air. That is why Jung often told the beautiful story of a Jewish rabbi who was asked by his pupils why in the Bible there were so many instances of the apparition of God, whereas nowadays such things did not happen, and the rabbi replied, “Because nowadays no one is humble enough to bend down low enough.”

~Marie-Louis von Franz, The Interpretation of Fairy Tales

my crow

Woke up this morning feeling so small I couldn’t reach the light switch. Tumbled out of bed into the darkness of my bedroom and tripped over my shoes. I ate up the shoelaces for breakfast and the coffee maker was busted so I got into an argument with my girlfriend who had left me 20 years ago. In my head she sat on my shoulder like a dark crow shadow, cawcawphoning laughter into my ear. I flung a bust of Neitzsche at  her with a heaving sigh, but missed and only succeeded in concussing my own poor shallow skull which soon shattered into seven several shards that knelt on the floor, prostrate in a puddle of broken dream. The next time I wake up, I’ll know better, I told myself before turning off the alarm clock and falling off the mattress onto the hard cold floor.

 

from September. . .

 

September-1a
An excerpt. . .

 

 

. . . from  a really nice minimalist graphic novel by Mette Norrie. Really moved by the way her use of image and color captures the essence of solitude and transformative experience. . . beautiful! (click on the graphic to visit. . . ) Her website is here and has some really nice artwork. . .

shock

So this morning during assembly, one of my fellow teachers says, “I just thought it was hilarious when all those student protests were going on this weekend, my husband, H. was out buying himself a new gun. . . ” and then she cackled with continuous glee like a sad, sick, demented hen.

I Choose to Better Use. . .

There is a darkness to these times – a suffocating tightness of the chest – a drifting cloud of foul smoggy gas – a dark toned feeling of loss and despair in the absurdities leaking forth from the media and the minute by minutia of the news.

There is a newness to the light of these times as well, a piercing shine that is not quite a glare in the early morning of just now spring, a gleaming gold reflected from windowpane and tree leaf and grass blade, a glimmering of hope that rings through clear in the songs of the mind and the hot beating of the heart.

And so I choose the latter vision and now refuse to be manipulated and swayed by the darkness of the media tunnel vision delusion. I choose to be aware and active in the here and now. To breath in and know that I am breathing in. To breathe out and know that I am breathing out. To simply smile and be at ease with what is and let the warm light flow, the snow drift, and the river run.