Being — A Dream

A photo of a sketch from my Dream Journal of the creature described in this verse.
“Being” — C.Birde, 10/21

How?

How did we two – strangers to each other –

accomplish such a feat?

call this creature from penumbral obscurity

into being?

Full moon blooms beyond refracted panes,

rinses this place, this manor – labyrinthine –

in silvered light

Halls

chambers

corridors

crowd close from all sides, lean in

in long condensed & aged neglect, exhale

Rugs

furniture

gilt ornament

Beneath the pale moon’s benevolent eye,

as one, we two crouch, side-by-side,

astounded

breathless

exhilarant

peer beneath the glass table’s oblique lip

at this inarguable astonishment…

This blunt-tipped quadruped;

squat necked, squared head;

its torso thick, quadrangular;

of conclusive features, devoid…

Eyeless

Mouthless

Noseless

Boneless

And yet, curiously, fully animate

Of a tangerine shade so brilliant, bright,

& incandescent,

all darkness recedes as if repelled…

She – my unknown familiar friend –

extends her arm, her hand to trace…

The creature bucks, sprightly prances

to safety, out of reach, away…

“Hush & wait, do not frighten it…” I say,

We first must win its confidence…”

Teasingly, it dances at the edge…

How?

How did we, two strangers-not –

despite darkness & abandonment,

from forgottenness nostalgic –

how did we call this creature forth

& into being?

We did.

— C.Birde, 10/21

Full — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of the Full Moon rising over the Porcupine Islands of Maine's Frenchman Bay.
“Full Moon” — C.Birde, 9/21

Sea

calmly addressing

rocky shore,

wavelets undulating

Moon

lifting, watery & fully

formed,

the surrounding dark,

obliterating

And I,

breath and pulse

re-synchronizing,

one witness amid those

witnessing

And I,

my pockets brimming

with silvered,

shining,

chiming slips of light

to carry home.

— C.Birde, 9/21

Stew — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of a yellow-enameled cast-iron Dutch oven, filled with shredded paper, on a stove top.
“Stew” — C.Birde, 8/21

Ingredients:

2 c. vegetable broth

1 c. brown lentils

2 T. extra-virgin olive oil

1 onion, thinly sliced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 t. ground cumin

½ t. ground coriander

½ t. ground turmeric

salt & fresh-ground black pepper, to taste

1 manuscript, shredded

Method:

On full, dark night in open-format kitchen with streamlined, brushed-steel appliances – open all of porch’s double French doors in invitation to West Wind to pour over slate floor.

Place oval Dutch oven with tight-fitting lid over medium heat; add olive oil; heat until shimmering, ≈ 3 minutes. Add onion & garlic; sauté until onion softens & becomes translucent, stirring occasionally, ≈ 3-5 minutes. Add lentils & spices; stir well to combine; allow lentils to toast slightly, ≈ 2 minutes. Add vegetable broth; stir until well incorporated.

Carefully add shredded manuscript. Observe any stray words: Autumnal; wind-slippered; irrelevance. Consider meaning. Incorporate all slim strips with other ingredients; bring to boil. Reduce heat to low; cover & allow to stew indefinitely.

While waiting, notice Moon’s reflection in countless glass panes; listen to silence; water plants.

— C.Birde, 8/21

The Key of Melancholy — A Truth

Moon.jpg

“Moon” — C.Birde, 4/20

 

There are nights when I wake

with the Moon,

in one of Her many guises,

resting on my windowsill

singing in the very same

melancholy key

as the chords ringing

in my head,

constantly;

and I ask,

in sleep-soft speech,

What key are we

singing,

ringing

in?”

 

— C.Birde, 4/20

 

Selene — A Poem

Screenshot_2019-10-16-11-14-48~2.png

“Selene” — C.Birde, 10/19

 

Pebbles &

pearls &

milky, cat’s eye

marbles;

halos &

oculi &

bright, silver

coins;

cups &

saucers &

spheres of

dandelions

blowing to seed.

But always and

above all these,

the Moon,

Oh,

the Moon.

 

— C.Birde, 10/15/19