Auguries 4

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Sometimes, when I stare down

the silvered hallways,

my father stares back.

 

Listen.

This you should know my son:

Where sea touches sand

auguries multiply.

In the bellies of starfish,

in the jungles of wrack,

in the salty galaxies of shells

auguries are born.

 

Look.

This rock is a skull,

that cloud, an eagle,

and do you see the mermaid

in that drift of sand and seaweed

when the light is, just so?

 

Now close your eyes

and trace the Shaman’s face

with your sea blind fingers.

It was carved from this driftwood

by a magician,

singing to you.

 

Inundated and confused

I lean into visions,

unable

to decipher anything.

Brave maps become

empty paper bags

dancing in the wind.

Desires become

cascades of crows

released from clouds,

spiraling

through bones of trees.

 

“Try to lean toward ecstasy”

she said,

“and maybe, if possible,

keep leaning.”

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Kudos, thanks and credit to the anonymous driftwood sculptor.

Poem and photograph by clinock.

 

stories of my art – ‘Rising’

Rising - conte drawing by Clinock

Jewels and sand and rising water

Visions I’ve seen and cries I’ve heard

I can’t put these things into words

Might as well put some beans

In a hollow gourd and shake it, shake it.

Laurie Anderson