The Queen Very Rarely Fought Something Uncertain

Rotting from the Inside Out. Brandywine, MD, 9/2/2018.

earth and moon

you and me earth and moon

and our melting sky so full of shadows

aflame we’ll meet again quietly like this

let the world wonder our longing

we’ll tiptoe a little closer and kiss.

© SoulReserve 2018

Tidal flat in evening sun, Advocate Harbor, NS, Canada, 7/13/2018.

Sine wave (curtain / floor - light / shadow). Baltimore, 6/4/2017.

This map fascinates me. I would love to understand the algorithms by which it is constructed.

France if its 14 regions had about the same population.

Two Dogs, 3/24/2018

 In the solace of mist

Rhine full of  emaciated ghosts , clear faces with manic hatchets ,  disappointed trunks , floating flowers , agonizing masks , rustling dreams , palpitating empty baskets , plodding branches  &   thoughts of blithe martyrs

Like all the rivers

Digital Play #2: Sappho Awaits Her Goddess, Aphrodite: “… if only I, O goldencrowned Aphrodite, / could win this lot…” [Anne Carson, _If Not, Winter_; #33, Knopf, 2002]. 11/26/2017.

Approaching Storm , P.M. Rush Hour, N.J. Route 24, 8/8/2018

Although @soulreserve has given me a bit of credit for this work, I regard myself as nothing more than her first audience. She captures Pilbara in my mind's eye most beautifully.

Songs of the Red Earth Elders

hear the voices rise in unison, even as the parched red earth sings, its dust shimmers on passing travellers;

the sun wildfire-like breaks into dawn, here are trees drawn, crowded along the banks of the sole muddy river, that crawls, cacophonous with the notes these men serenade;

striking wood: the gold of the prospectors ships of intruders visions of the future eroding peace, these frantic beating drums and ancient rhythms, encapsulate meaning into story story into lore lore into pure sensation;

the unbroken blue skies of the Pilbara, an umbrella under which salt is made, sweat is broken and blood is dyed, these textures are found embellished in summer hearts, that hum and console, a promise to the rugged land spread far beyond the eye.

© SoulReserve 2017 & © SeaLaneHill  (9/4/2017)

[Writing this poem was an experience for two reasons: One, that I recently heard the ‘tjaabi’, or song-making and singing of dream visions by the traditional custodians of the Pilbara land. The Aboriginal Elder who narrated the story behind the songs ensured that we were all transported to a time and place, and that we felt the red earth, the sole muddy river, the crowded trees and the blazing sun upon our skins. The exploitation of the aboriginal people, although not a prominent theme, is felt too through the songs and I have tried to incorporate some aspects. Two, I collaborated with @sealanehill who inspired me to delve deeper into the words, strengthen the constructs of this poem and build something that to me is of lasting value. He titled the poem - ‘Soulsongs of the Red Earth Elders’. But, since I believe I overuse the word - soul, I took the liberty to omit it, (sorry Chris!) and keep the title 'Songs of the Red Earth Elders’. I share the credits for this piece with him, of course.]