L'aura del Campo

Make a list of images!

L'aura del campo

AUTUMN?: 14 Qawl (6 December) 42º.

'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣

I'm tired and not in the mood to blog. I put an entry in my other journal, Hoarfrosts from Hell, which explains why I'm just not cheery. I've been really low on energy and last night couldn't even remember my friend Dennis's name. Not a good sign.

Beautiful weather. Sunny, mild. Tomorrow will be c o l d.

Pictures on-line from the horsey parade here last Saturday:

http://www2.ljworld.com/photos/galleries/2006/dec/03/christmas_parade/

Hmmm. Kansas doesn't do too bad on the National health charts, but if you are a member of any minority or poor what does this matter? The statistics are always worse. To find out about your state:

http://www.unitedhealthfoundation.org/ahr2006/states/StateSummary.html

I haven't been reading as many blogs as I was there for awhile. Maybe that's why the comments have been fewer ! I know I need to get back to doing that. Startiara has been kind to read quite a few entries and leave nice comments.

The same moon shines for you and me

My heart wept,
turned to stone,
built walls

and bolted doors
against the thunder of "what if",
of hope.

Deep
within my castle keep
I refused to think of you

but all hearts gasp for air to breathe;
eyes demand windows to see

and tonight

tonight enters with the moon. [163.462a]

I was thinking of how the moon shines on all of us near and far. My father died in 1999. I have not been back to visit. It's been about 100 moons.

Full moon
over my father's grave.
How many moons has it been? [163.462b]

Images from December 6th:

Freeze-dried rose-petals crumbling between my fingers; the crunch of frozen lawn; a juniper twisted; a student practicing on the bells (and not doing too well); wet tan sand on top of snow; a woman in a peach sweater in a wheel-chair; a man in shorts; a woman scarfed and walking a pace behind a man; men working on the roof of Flint Hall.

I then took these images and wove a lament ...

Trying not to think of you

Freeze dried rose petals
crumble between my fingers;
I hear the crunch of frozen lawn.

         I have not heard from you.
         What does this mean?

I see a juniper
twisted beyond a bonsai.
I slip on melting ice.

         What does not die survives;
         but will I care?

A young woman smiles
in a peach colored sweater,
wheels by in her chair.

         If you never speak to me again,
         how will I smile in despair? [163.463]

I must be in a mood! The three poetic sketches are all bummers, but they are written with three different people in mind. Estrangement is an odd emotion. It demands both love and a sense of loss.

To gather images, and I strongly urge ALL writers to gather images, fragments of conversation, whatever, (just like Bernard in "The Waves" of Virginia Woolf) just make a list of 5 questions:

1. What do I see?
2. What do I hear?
3. What do I feel/touch?
4. What do I smell?
5. What do I taste/sense?

Then STOP. Yep, stop. And become aware of all that is outside and inside you. 15 minutes, maybe only 5, are needed to make a list that will nourish your writing throughout the day (and this list can be as long as you want it to be ).

11,542 views

** Image ID #1134108 Unavailable **
 Kare Enga