Alaska Moonscape
—Poetry and Photos by Carol Eve Ford, Kenai, AK
SPACE
I used to think of space
as a clear sky. Maybe a night sky
curving around and above us.
When I got older I learned that
space
was full of planets, lined up in order.
My Dog Has Fleas?
Wait. Every Good Boy…No!
Pff! Mnemonics! If only you could remember
which one goes with what!
Anyway, Space now meant ordered planets.
Then I started thinking about the actual
space
of Space.
I made a five-foot-wide cardboard “sun.”
I did the (very) rough math.
If the sun were five feet wide, how large
would Mercury be? Venus? Etc., etc.?
More importantly, how much
space
would be in between?
We tape my sun on the school, drive
for miles, thumb-tack Mercury to a tree.
Drive on and on, put out Venus. Earth…
miles later, the erstwhile speck, Pluto.
Earth vanishes. My planets float, spin, orbit
in infinite
Space.
I used to think of space
as a clear sky. Maybe a night sky
curving around and above us.
When I got older I learned that
space
was full of planets, lined up in order.
My Dog Has Fleas?
Wait. Every Good Boy…No!
Pff! Mnemonics! If only you could remember
which one goes with what!
Anyway, Space now meant ordered planets.
Then I started thinking about the actual
space
of Space.
I made a five-foot-wide cardboard “sun.”
I did the (very) rough math.
If the sun were five feet wide, how large
would Mercury be? Venus? Etc., etc.?
More importantly, how much
space
would be in between?
We tape my sun on the school, drive
for miles, thumb-tack Mercury to a tree.
Drive on and on, put out Venus. Earth…
miles later, the erstwhile speck, Pluto.
Earth vanishes. My planets float, spin, orbit
in infinite
Space.
Sky Symphony
CLOUDY DAYS
One is stone,
one like vapor,
one swirls with mighty tornado winds,
another balances a whole plate
of spinning moons around her middle.
Here a mighty petrosphere of polished agate,
there a ball of ice, and there another
flung and formed and circling mother
star—
the corps de ballet of the Heavens.
But this one alone
is sapphire and emerald
swaddled in satin, lace and diamonds,
moving patterns so grand and life-giving
we, its paltry inhabitants, only notice
a ruined picnic,
snowplows blocking traffic.
We miss pink sunrises,
torrid sunsets.
Maybe we imagine bunnies,
dragons,
angels—
if we think to look up
at all.
Burnout
THIS LOVE
It’s a curse, this love—
this answered prayer—
this deeply longed-for grace—
Earth, sea, cloud, mountain, butterfly,
each part, and the whole, sacred—
to stand helpless in this holy moment
as the ungodly rape and murder it.
To stand helpless in this holy moment—
each part, and the whole, sacred.
Earth, sea, cloud, mountain, butterfly,
this deeply longed-for grace—
this answered prayer.
It’s a curse, this love.
(a Mirror Palindrome, prev. pub. in Dads Desk)
It’s a curse, this love—
this answered prayer—
this deeply longed-for grace—
Earth, sea, cloud, mountain, butterfly,
each part, and the whole, sacred—
to stand helpless in this holy moment
as the ungodly rape and murder it.
To stand helpless in this holy moment—
each part, and the whole, sacred.
Earth, sea, cloud, mountain, butterfly,
this deeply longed-for grace—
this answered prayer.
It’s a curse, this love.
(a Mirror Palindrome, prev. pub. in Dads Desk)
Can't Say Good-Bye
LIFELINE
Injustice marches down the Avenue.
It doesn’t know and doesn’t care what’s true.
Its blindness and its life are one black hole
in which there is no light, there is no soul.
To love, or right, or persons it is dead;
from history and nature it has fled.
It marches, unaware and unconcerned
regarding what’s been loved, or what’s been learned—
Violence and greed each age the same
since humankind emerged from whence we came.
Yet winding through the marching mindless dread
the liquid song of kindness weaves a thread
as deep and light and true as it is broad,
as strong as any lifeline flung from God.
(prev. pub. in Dads Desk)
Injustice marches down the Avenue.
It doesn’t know and doesn’t care what’s true.
Its blindness and its life are one black hole
in which there is no light, there is no soul.
To love, or right, or persons it is dead;
from history and nature it has fled.
It marches, unaware and unconcerned
regarding what’s been loved, or what’s been learned—
Violence and greed each age the same
since humankind emerged from whence we came.
Yet winding through the marching mindless dread
the liquid song of kindness weaves a thread
as deep and light and true as it is broad,
as strong as any lifeline flung from God.
(prev. pub. in Dads Desk)
Kachemak Bay at Twilight
WHISPERS
Whispered cadence asks again, again:
How can you let this end?
Sparkling sapphire sea
sloshing lazily, luxuriantly lusty
rhythms against age-old rocks
lacing robust shore with sea treasures
tide after tide after tide.
How dare we bear to let this end?
Tide after tide after tide,
lacing robust shore with sea treasures,
rhythms against age-old rocks,
sloshing lazily, luxuriantly lusty,
this sparkling sapphire sea—
How can you let this end?
Whispered cadence asks again, again.
(prev. pub. in Dads Desk)
Eternal Sky
__________________________
Our thanks to Carol Eve Ford today for sending us poetry and photos from her beautiful Alaska! For another of Carol’s poems, a Tuanortsa—Astronaut spelled backwards (poetscollective.org/poetryforms/tuanortsa), check in to Form Fidders’ Friday in tomorrow’s Kitchen. Both her poems, "Whispers" and "This Love" are Mirror Palindromes (see www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/palindrome.html/).
Keep SnakePal Michael Lee Johnson in your thoughts for a swift recovery after the terrible traffic accident which occurred on October 2. 8 broken ribs, 8 bone fractures in his right upper leg, broken right ankle in multi-locations. 26 days hospital rehab, weeks to go. He can use a few kind words; write to him at www.facebook.com/groups/807679459328998/user/605601763/.
Today (10/28), 4:30pm: Sac. Poetry Alliance Literary Lectures presents Sarah Browning, who will speak about activist poetry. The ZOOM link for ALL Literary Lectures is us02web.zoom.us/j/81872835469/.
___________________
—Medusa
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