photography – Page 40

Threat, Part II — A Dream

IMG_20190325_102508_555~2.jpg — “Primaries” — C.Birde, 3/19

Why?

Why wouldn’t you listen?

Why couldn’t you?

Ever?

Despite threat and

warning,

you succumbed

to temptation.

To the rattle and call –

so strong,

too strong –

of that small, dull, charcoal-dark sphere.

It sang

for release and

you rolled it out

from its glass-walled

confinement

against your palm –

too thin,

too warm,

so unprotected.

Your skin absorbed

melting shadow,

while the two

at your shoulder –

foolhardy and

eager –

huddled and

watched.

And I?

I ran.

Unwilling

to witness

your transformation,

your de-

humanization.

I ran.

From the room,

the derelict house.

Down the hillside.

Toward the sea.

I dove

into hummocked,

grassy turf.

Myself,

now changed –

shrunken,

diminished,

miniaturized.

I ran…

scurried,

rushed,

hurried.

Through networked

earthen tunnels –

ducking lace-fringed

grassy roots –

that looped

and dipped

and dove

and curved

through endless

coils of earth.

I ran –

scampered,

hurtled

expanded

the distance between

myself and

you

until the tunnel

ended…

in an knothole

opened

in the subfloor

beneath

a battered kitchen cabinet.

Sealed cabinet doors,

defined by a slim seam

of vertical light.

A push,

and out I tumble

onto worn linoleum tiles

and dim-lit kitchen;

my former self and

size restored.

For naught.

You

are here,

have anticipated

my time and place of arrival.

You crouch

at the cramped kitchen’s

perimeter.

You

and your two friends.

Changed, now –

one red, one yellow;

you, blue.

Your humanity

lost

(as predicted)

to right angles

and jointed,

flattened planes.

Your serrated teeth

gnash in cruel grins.

(As warned.)

Your laughter barks,

humorless.

(As feared.)

You wouldn’t

listen.

You never

did.

Surrounded,

now.

No escape.

We

are

lost.

— C.Birde, 3/19

dreams subconscious

Moonlight — An Image

Spilling moonlight

from her pockets

— like pebbles

&

petals

&

peace —

she lays

a silvered path

for all

to follow…

And yet

we

h

e

s

i

t

a

t

e

.

— C.Birde, 3/19

Nature

Quickening — A Poem

Damp Roots -- 3:16.jpg — “Quickening” — C.Birde, 3/19

Long awaited.

Realized,

recognized

– at last –

in quickening

earth

(beat & breath of loamy

heart),

resurgent

song

(trill & tremor in airborne

throats),

in bud and flower

and greening

leaf

(stretch & shift toward expanding

light).

Spring arrives

– gift-wrapped –

on our

doorsteps.

Compose your

thank-yous accordingly.

Address them

to each

blushing hour,

each mischief curl

of breeze.

— C.Birde, 3/19

Nature Spring

Threat — A Dream

Screenshot_2019-03-18-09-18-46~4.png — “Threat” — C.Birde, 3/19

I know.

It’s tempting.

That small, dull, charcoal-dark sphere,

contained

within that slim glass vial —

a piece

of shadow

trapped and capped.

So curious…

So seemingly

harmless.

Please.

Trust me.

I beg you.

Don’t open the vial.

You misunderstand —

I am not the threat.

It is.

Released,

it will change —

flatten…thin…spread…

and seep into your skin…

Change you.

Unmake you.

Into something

unrecognizable.

Un-human.

Inhuman.

Huge and heartless

with cruelty tucked

in your laughter

and a grin

full of hungry

teeth.

Please.

Please…

Just don’t…

For you sake…

For mine…

For ours…

…

You never

would

listen

to me…

— C.Birde, 3/19

dreams subconscious

Frenzy — An Image

Madness

— like water —

seeks

its own

level.

B

e

w

a

r

e

.

— C.Birde, 3/19

Stay — A Poem

Spring called

the other day…

tapped at the door

with birdsong fingers,

fogged the glass

with promises

and lilac-scented

breath…

then vanished.

I hear her laughter

lift from slow-

thawing

earth.

— C.Birde, 3/19

Nature

Inward turning…my personal weather, a stillness, a vacuum…the “doldrums” (nautical term, describing an equatorial region of the Atlantic Ocean, marked by still air, sudden storms, unpredictable winds). I prefer the earth beneath my feet, certainty… Adrift, all the same… The sensation manifests — in a shortness of breath, a faint lack of oxygen; as a heaviness in my gut. I am not unhappy, no. Unfocused, yes; “at sea”, so it seems. A pattern. Free of resistance, denial, struggle, I sit in its company, as if with someone I’ve known. Too long. A lifetime. We occupy shared space, absent of dialogue. Lonely, but comfortable. And then — interruption. Gwynnie leaps into my lap (open invitation to any cat). Her purr, a revelation. Her hard little head (thrust against my chin) confirmation of here, now. Physical reminder, in all her warm, fuzzy critterness — slack sails will fill and stir; the compass, reorient… Spring, too, will leap unexpectedly. (As a cat.) Woodland trails will call…chipmunks, uncurl from nests…birdsong, inscribe the pulsing air… Reminder that I will feel — again, soon — the quick green tremble of everything. And this immersion — so imminent — this reconnection, and close observation will feed, refuel: body, mind, spirit. Creative well. Whole.

A lot to lay on a season, but Spring can take it.

— C.Birde, 3/19

Abide — An Image

Abide —

The cardinal sings

& daylight lingers

& the earth’s crust

quivers

with small green unborn

things…

Spring

is on

Her

way.

— C.Birde, 3/19

Nature

March — A Poem

Screenshot_2019-03-06-13-56-50~2.png — “Linden in Snow” — C.Birde, 3/19

friction of

transition

dark to light

translation

of earth

from hibernation

to waking

manifestation of

latent creative

energies.

March is

all this,

and narcissus,

too.

— C.Birde, 3/19

Nature

Seams — A Dream

Screenshot_2019-03-03-14-38-40~2.png — “Seams” — C.Birde, 3/19

Did you see?

Did anyone see?

It seemed

she was there

an instant ago…

Across the street…

A woman.

Clad in dark wool coat

and dress

and beret…

It seemed

she stood, just there –

on the sidewalk…

where the driveway’s apron

spills into the street…

It seemed

she paused…

For just a moment…

To look at me.

Our eyes met.

It seemed

she hesitated –

black shoes

a stark and shiny contrast

to pale-stockinged legs…

It seemed

she waited…

feet planted

on the sidewalk’s network of

seams and

cracks and

broken cement…

And,

suddenly,

it seemed

she vanished…

Sucked,

swallowed,

slurped down

into the earth

through spider-webbed cracks,

her black-gloved right hand –

fingers splayed wide –

the last of her

to claw

to flash

to pass

into that’s seam’s

impossible hollow.

In that one impossible

instant.

Did you not see?

Did no one else

see?

It seems

not…

— C.Birde, 3/13

dreams