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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? *Heart*


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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?

the golden mean

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November 14, 2018 at 10:36am
November 14, 2018 at 10:36am
#945550
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.

November 12, 2018 at 10:41am
November 12, 2018 at 10:41am
#945404
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.
November 5, 2018 at 10:43am
November 5, 2018 at 10:43am
#944939
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.
October 30, 2018 at 8:56am
October 30, 2018 at 8:56am
#944527
Tree of Life

When I was a child
we drove from Pittsburgh to Kittanning
to camp along the banks
of the Allegheny River.
On the ride, we sang silly songs.
At night we roasted corn
and made runny eggs for breakfast
to dip in bagels we bought
at a Jewish deli in Squirrel Hill.

There is a breeze
on this cool, fall Florida morning
along the Imperial River
hundreds of miles south of Kittanning.
I lay a spray of flowers
at water's edge.
I whisper prayers
for the Tree of Life.

Author's note: I grew up in Pittsburgh. I have been to the Tree of Life Synagogue. My heart is broken.
October 22, 2018 at 5:09pm
October 22, 2018 at 5:09pm
#943989
Crone

My womb doesn't bleed
empty, silent as a tomb
open and spacious
deeply connected to Earth
reaching upwards to the sky.

A tonka







tarot of the Crone---seven of cups--Fantasy---seek the vision that speaks to your whole heart
October 16, 2018 at 9:30am
October 16, 2018 at 9:30am
#943558
Day 717 of p45

Voter suppression
Babies in cages
Climate change denial
Here is
Maliciousness-in-chief
October 10, 2018 at 9:14am
October 10, 2018 at 9:14am
#943121
Not in Kansas Anymore

Dorothy, that insipid child,
didn't know she was a witch
and held power all along.
In OZ, I would be the scarecrow.
Brainless, egoless
pure consciousness
with knees of straw
and not titanium.
I would sit cross-legged
on my cushion
surrounded by a golden road
of sunflowers.
Everything would be rainbow.


With apologies to Elizabeth Bishop


Tarot of the Crone---IV--Emperor--take charge of the powers of limitation and order.
October 1, 2018 at 12:43pm
October 1, 2018 at 12:43pm
#942336
October

The veil is thin now
between the seen
and unseen worlds.
I call the ancestors
and they come.
I carve turnips and small pumpkins.
Jack o'lanterns
have no sex, make no plans.
They sit and shine
with wounded faces.
The ancestors talk.
It is tower time,
mischief is afoot.
Stock your root cellars,
hold fast to family.


Tarot of the Crone---Three of Disks---Family---Make true connections that are beyond reason.
September 25, 2018 at 9:34am
September 25, 2018 at 9:34am
#941999
Insipid

Insipid is as insipid does.
Judge Jeanine, Trump children,
pumpkin spice latte,
nasty, venal.
September 19, 2018 at 10:12am
September 19, 2018 at 10:12am
#941681
Autumn in Florida

Persimmons ripen
by the ides of October
salty and sweet
a murmur of fall

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