i was a lump of clay
i am a flightless bird
i will be on display
now isn’t that absurd
.
to get the rapt attention of
supporters of the arts?
a pedestal’s detention, love,
confines and wilts and smarts.
.
the trouble is when i was made
my wright made me a soul
and now i’m frozen, senseless, stayed…
but Love
may make
me whole…
the Muse isn’t always a woman/it’s often a Voice in your head/a powerful Strength you can summon/if you let yourself be so Led
ignore it at peril. Engagement/is locked in by seeing a Truth/as in Facing the source of enragement/or owning an Action uncouth
the Universe isn’t a puzzle/that’s constantly trying to Trick you/rabidity happens. A muzzle/applied may make Happenstance pick you
and give you adventures of Making/and show where may comrade or Lover be/take Ink or Pure Thought or Heart Breaking/and voyage on seas of Discovery
Today I’m going to a birthday pot luck for my poet friend Julie Elefante. I decided to write a sonnet dedicated to her. I thought that would be a good birthday present because, regardless of the quality of the sonnet, it would represent an expenditure of at least an hour of my life, which Julie is certainly worth, and more. But I had a little change left out of that hour, so I illustrated/calligraphed the last line of the sonnet.
god’s on it/godsonnet
to Julie Elefante
when god beheld the universe she’d wrought
it talked to her in many-colored voices,
it cheered and whined and folded want with lot,
and asked advice regarding need and choices.
then god, whilst folding towels and wreaking mayhem,
administered a word to undeservers.
the word was when, referring not to a.m.
but to creation’s dawn, its queues and servers.
then followed who and where, addressed to prey-ers,
who guaranteed a heated destination
with ‘prayer’ that preys on truth and mutes its sayers,
and god said why, and tried another station.
one final concept bubbled up to be
and god said what and proved her deity.
One with Clay, Image and Text 