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 |  My blog--I pull a card--if it doesn't speak to me...perhaps it is for you? |
I pull a card...if it doesn't speak to me...perhaps it was meant for you?   How to Read the Tarot Begin by brewing a cup of tea, a nervine, lemon balm or chamomile, this is after all, your future. A reading at the dark of the moon is best, before the night creatures crawl and bad humours fill the air. Pick a circular deck, with a fairy-tale motif, and no reversals. Hold a question in your heart, shuffle the cards and place them on the table. Choose only two. Like the ancient Israelites, these are your seer stones, Urim and Thumimm, black and white, yes or no. Isn't that all you were asking?  |
| Rust Never Sleeps Rust never sleeps but marches on as inexorable as time. Will my titanium knees melt when I am cremated? Perhaps the grandkids will bury them,like an afterthought placenta. Marcescent leaves cling to the hornbeam trees through winter. They will fall when spring buds push through and carrion crows announce Persephone's eternal return to Earth. Author's Note: I took the title and opening line from a company in Fort Myers, FL that deals in architectural salvage. Tarot of the Crone---Beast of Swords---take a higher view--look at all the available paths. |
| Frosty The closest we come to snow in Naples are fake flurries on Third Street South at Christmas. And I have waited in line for the kids to plunge into machine made white in Golden Gate. In January on Sanibel, the feathers of white pelicans on southern hiatus, egrets, herons,and other pond scoggins turn the palms into a blanc mange. I shake my plastic snow globe bought at the Dollar Tree and conjure frosty dreams. Tarot of the Crone--XVIII--Moon--the power of dream that goes further than imagination |
| November Trees Our summer bodies are more porous and we bud and blossom without restraint. November comes and we pine for snow like a sleepy child waiting to be carried to bed. We dream of ancient, foreign baobab trees, our trunks storing water for the coming drought, our limbs gathering air. Waking to morning chimes we watch our leaves falling. Tarot of the Crone--Ten of Disks--Age--Value the wisdom of your body. |
| Burnt Orange The raw, dark truth is that politics matters. I would not bring a conservative to my bed. Contentious pillow talk is not for me, though Carville and Matlin seem to make it work. Meanwhile, our Lady of the Glades weeps as the river of grass dies. She does not care if you are red, or blue, as whitewashed, monetized politicians impede her paradise lost green flow. Ballerina pink pussy hats march, move on, advance, retreat. The rainbow people are screaming. In Germany, enemies of the state, wore yellow stars. Climate change is real. Sea level rise is real. We are inhabitants of a fouled, crowded world. Democracy is burning. The raw, dark truth is that politics matters. |
| Wheels I miss the days when we were promising machines able to hit high flies and pitch no-hitters. I yearn for different journeys now. A shaft of warm sunlight, old choruses to sing. I tuck a strand of wayward hair behind his ear. The clock ticks. Dark Goddess Tarot--X-Wheel--You will turn, and turn again. Every path leads you home. |
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And I absolutely love getting a glimpse into how people's minds & inspiration work - who'd've thought you'd end up with a lovely piece about a bird from a picture of a restaurant 
This is the type of free verse that in my opinion suits Shadows & Light.