Multi-verses

Monday Morning Musings:

Multi-verses

“It’s Cloud Illusions I Recall”–Joni Mitchell Cloud reflections , the Delaware River.

Time and space are jumbled,
ideas have migrated, questions are folded in dimensions,
dragged across decades, tossed against the fragile sky
till we are moving backwards

bewildered as kittens dumped and left to suffer, trembling and sore.

The questions multiply—where am I and why?
Haven’t we fought these battles before? We were tigers, elegant and sleek,
now we’re tasteless mouths and shameful hands, rewarded for incompetence,
we ingest wickedness at breakfast, as we applaud plots and crimes,
icicles grow in our hearts.

The verses sweep up the questions, from one century to the next,
No meter can contain them, the wind won’t let them rest,
Will flash, dazzle, and wit do more than satisfy (the questions want to know)?
Perhaps the verses are like ornaments, merely here for show,
yes, no, who knows? We still read them, when they’re not banned,
and pass them along from hand to hand,
even if they’re contraband.

(The verses like to rhyme, from time to time,
it varies by the year,
sometimes out of fashion, otherwise sublime.)

Civilizations rise and fall,
languages change, but thoughts and feelings remain,
what would I do in another world,
would I still be me and would you be you?
In every world, I’m certain I’d fight for my children
and miss my mom.

But watch—the souls drift by the river
between the moon and garden, they are
shadows that wrap themselves about us like blankets,
like unanswered questions, they wait.

Flower Gardens

Light and shadows

Light and Shadows

I began this by the using the random words from my previous post.

And I played with the word “multiverse” because we streamed the movie Everything Everywhere All at Once. I loved it! It’s about multiverses and relationships and what if? It’s got action and some crazy fight scenes, which is so not my thing, but it’s also clever, funny, and touching, and it’s one to think about after. I thought all the acting was excellent. Our older child loved it and is ready to see it again. They asked me if I cried at the end, and I have to admit, I did get teary-eyed because it deals with mother-daughter relationships.

We also streamed a play this week on July 4: The Complete Works of Jane Austen, Abridged (Tiny Dynamite Theater.) It was a lot of fun. Streaming tickets still available for a few days.
watched

We also watched the movie, Operation Hyacinth on Netflix. It’s a Polish thriller set in the 1980s about sting operations on gay men, but also about the corruption of the police state. I thought it was well done, exciting, and sort of noir-ish. Despite it being set in the 1980s–no cell phones, a reference to AIDS–it seems timely as we move more towards a police state here with laws targeting the LGBTQ+ community, and COVID.


I read Sea of Tranquility, the latest novel by Emily St. John Mandel. Multiple storylines, time travel, history, and Moon colonies–of course, it’s my kind of book.

We’ve been enjoying lots of summer produce:

I’ll be back this afternoon because I’m hosting dVerse–Quadrille. All week we will be celebrating dVerse’s 11th Anniversary.

FYI: @TopTweetTuesday is asking participants to share poetry reviews tomorrow.

Moon Dreams, NaPoWriMo, Day 29

 

 

 

 

 

 

Moon goddess whispers a shadow

(say it).

Her language is the smooth smell of never–

she aches music,

and shines light in diamond sprays

when we sleep,

a storm,

a delirious symphony of beauty and blood–

urging,

what if. . .?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m off prompt for today, the penultimate NaPoWriMo day for this year. I visited the poetry Oracle instead.

 

 

Sky Show: Tanka

Starlight_sower_(1)_by_artist_HAI_KNAFO_2011_inspired_by_Or_Zaruaa

watch sky-show above

sing light language symphony

together through storms

 

we ache elaborately

gown’d by life and could have–but

 

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The Oracle gave me a Tanka for Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge. The prompt words were watch and voice. I substituted sing for voice–because you don’t argue with the Oracle. 😉

Tangled in History and Art

Monday Morning Musings:

“We always did feel the same
We just saw it from a different point
Of view
Tangled up in blue”

–Bob Dylan, “Tangled Up in Blue”

 

“for a brief, enchanted, almost transcendental point in time, I perceived how history was nothing more than an accident, a fluke, a matter of a few centimeters here or there, a head turned, a sudden gust of wind, a dirty gun barrel, a misfired cartridge, a breath held for a second too long or too little, an order misheard or misunderstood, an itchy trigger finger, a second’s delay, an instant’s hesitation. The idea that anything is ever meant to be seemed nonsensical. . .”

–Philip Kerr, Prussian Blue

 

I wake,

finger-comb my tangled curls

wait for dawn to break,

to overtake,

the midnight blue

and color the world in morning’s hues–

red, pink, gold—

and then the sun and clouds

are “tangled up in blue”

Sunrise, National Park, NJ

I think of my dreams

stories connected–

projected or reflected?

One flows into another,

intersected, another thought appears.

How do we dream before we have language?

In tangled images without names?

(Only later can we reframe.)

 

We see a performance

women on aerials silks and trapeze

moving with ease

in the air and on the ground

they cross and tangle

(sometimes dangle)

life lines that intersect,

disentangle, and connect

(the toddler next to us, calls to her Momma)

which doesn’t detract from the drama,

attests instead to broader connections

and lives that move in several directions

the tangle of work and home,

a woman sings, “I’m fine,”

but from any angle,

our lives and connections are certainly tangled

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We walk

we talk

observe

and swerve

around the other people

on the street

hear bits of conversation

their lives briefly entwined with ours

flies tangled in a web

flowers

to be pollinated in late-night hours

in my dreams

(or so it seems)

 

We drink and eat

watch the men across the street

and make up stories of their lives,

wonder about their families and their wives,

we concoct a total fantasy

with no basis in reality

just men having a smoke,

yet they evoke,

our ridiculous tales

make us laugh and smile

as we linger for a while

the liminal time, before sunset

a time of yet and no regret

stories tangled together, apart

truth, fiction, and sometimes art

 

We see another show,

what is it about?

Theater can explain and deceive

(a nifty magic trick is well-received)

movements, music, and words

fly in tangles, like tiny birds

through our brains

where, I’m not sure what remains

science and speculation

no overwhelming revelation

the beginning, the middle, the end

Big Bang and what comes after

for a family–

there is some laughter–

nothing is predictable, it’s true

we could be tangled up

in blue

or black

when the theater is dark,

but like an ark

it takes us on a journey

Information received

or are we deceived?

Tangles upon tangles in the darkness

no answers here

only questions

But that’s OK, I’m fine.

 

We emerge to sunshine

watch the people

watch the dogs

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At Tria Café, Washington West

and the bikers bike

(we see all types)

we linger, drink, and eat,

poetry of the street

sights and sounds tangled together

(we enjoy the lovely weather)

this moment, this now

I wonder how,

and what,

and if only. . .

We walk to the corner

left or right

which brings us to a sight

we do not know what we will see

or what was then, or what will be

move straight ahead

down that clear path

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what happens then

oh, I see, it’s a dead end

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Do we turn the other way?

Does history change, what if we stay?

Our shadows tangle on the cobblestones,

hands clasped

we head for home

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We saw two of the many, many Philadelphia Fringe Festival shows this weekend

We saw Life Lines by Tangled Movements Arts, which we both really enjoyed. See this group, if you can.

And we saw Hello Blackout by New Paradise Laboratories. See this if you like weird. The program note says to let the show wash over you to give yourself “a right brain vacation.” That’s the fun of Fringe–something different. I didn’t love it, but I’m not sorry I saw it.

We ate at Cuba Libre and Tria Cafe.