I am a lone bird wheeling jagged edges
of ancient cliffs above the shallows
of a rough Dover sea.
My feathers gleam in the beam of
the lighthouse where gentle swells
pulse against rocky shores
where in dreams you held me tenderly like
treasured pearls.
I have abandoned the lighthouse
that seems to lean closer to the sea
waiting in vain at the tide swept shore.
The beam has ceased its search
still each time I pass I tip my wing.
You have left your
finger prints on my soul
for you I would journey
to that place that haunts me
between midnight and dawn
where we are imperfect
in those unseen dreams
where the only sound is the
unfolding of Origami swans
a disassembling of tenderness
where I capture what
I cannot keep
Dahlngs, I was over at Tea Toast and Trivia. Thank you Rebecca for sharing this fabulous interview with Resa (aka One Eye). It was such fun but I must admit I teared up a bit and this time not just for attention.
Dahlings, it’s me, Rene Rosso! Welcome to A Tangle Of Stars!
Tonight’s Stars are Resa (aka One- Eye), and Rebecca Budd. Rebecca did a podcast where she interviewed Resa about her Art Gowns.
I’m sure you’ll want to hear the Podcast, so click on the banner below.
Of course now that One -Eye has had her moment of glory, I am thrilled to tell you that I will be reciting Holly – House of Heart poetry, through Rebecca Budd’s voice. One-Eye is working on the contract.
GOD SPUN
by Holly Rene Hunter
I’d like to take a special moment to thank Chicklet Poppy © Georgian Carlson for doing my most fabulous “Tangle of Stars” hair-do.
Remember Poppy from a gala fundraiser & show of support for all victims of rape, sexual abuse and crimes of violence (click above pic for post) where she performed a jazzy ballet with
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Remember that cabin among the trees hidden like rabbits resting in nests of autumn leaves? Beside the window that looks out on the river there is a writer’s desk with printer’s ink and fresh flowers kissed by the sun in the sill.
Do you recall the sweet days we shared among the redwoods that spoke to us? The memory evokes such nostalgia for that ache, that fierce crushing devotion. I left a heart shaped basket of seeds in the arch of a tree for the birds to scatter, etched our names on its bark. I will always remember you and the cabin by the river, the sultry nights I would dance, those sheer layers floating to the herringbone floor.
John, you are a treasure. I’m counting on you.
I wrote this a while back in response to a very personal piece on House of Heart, about people we had hoped to hold a little longer.
Despite what the movies and the clichés tell us, things don’t always end neatly or beautifully… but it’s worth something that there are still those out there, like Holly, offering a little sanctuary and hope to those who are running on empty…
I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,
shine with you,
watch you grow from
sharpening your poems on blades of grass,
cuddling small clouds
who followed you home,
to lying undefeated on your bed,
checking out phantoms and raindrops
on your windows
after a day stained with comedowns
and air strikes,
holding your breath for fingerstrokes
that gallop on thighs
young enough to believe in adventure.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be there
for all of these things,
laugh with you
at…
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The adventure continues at Resa’s (One Eye) Art Gowns! Don’t miss it!
It was a very serious situation!
The moment Rene Rosso felt Rebecca Budd’s estranged & frantic energy, she instinctively morphed into Princess Blue Holly.
Princess Blue Holly looked into her Tangle-Heart. The signal was weak.
Her Tangle-Heart managed to connect via the moon to a magic orb from Dale’s Peach tree.
It led Blue Holly to a wind farm outside of Chicago. It was here she found the Art Gowns Models planted firmly into the good earth.
She also found the tornado that had captured them. It was Etamilc Egnahc. Poor thing had once been Blue Holly’s friend; a gentle, soothing summer breeze. Then climate change turned her into a PBH nemesis.
“Blue Holly, welcome to my Art Gowns Models Plantation! Seems whenever the Art Gowns Models are in jeopardy, you come to the rescue. Well, you’re too late! They’re already growing roots, and once they go to seed…
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A young birch sways
like a new-born giraffe
its limbs lean out
over wilted grass
and ocher vines bind
a sightless sentry
whose eyes never flinch
but guard eternal.
The silence of winter
stacks on solitary bones
until May winds stir
the crowns of trees
flush with suspended
birds
powerless to fly on.
art by rick nilson
I wish you wanted me
in a gentle way
that made sense of shadows
on the days when the rains came.
I wish you wanted me
in a funny way –
funny strange,
like the leaves on sea trees,
growing out
beyond the tide
and dropping their plankton leaves up into sky…
or funny funny,
funny silly,
funny crazy like a barrel,
rolling,
bouncing
down a mountain…
down a stream…
I wish that was you
with the sponge in your hand,
saving the washed-away colour of me…
pulling me back from the rain.
I wish I knew you,
who you,
what you were…
and I wish you wanted me,
right here,
right now,
where nothing does…
where nothing exists outside the train
that’s never gonna call at my station again.
I wish you could see the little world I made,
here in a river,
weeping me free…
and I wish…
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I am a constellation
pasted to a smear of deep sky or
some god spun leaf drifting
a wintry blue pond or a
flame living in fire.
My tongue turns silvery around
my words, do not take them
for sorrow I have named them
peace.
Do not forget me.
I still need you to carry me
over the pierce of thorns for
My hands are good for nothing
but a plea do not forget me
I am still here my hair a tangle
of stars.
