The Minimalist Eye Project

Coordinated by the curator of our local art gallery, the poetry circle partnered with a photographer to create The Minimalist Eye. Yours truly has two poems featured in the project: Slanted Orange and Big Red.

To see the full exhibition, visit the virtual tour:

So fortunate to be part of a such a vibrant community. As a bonus, the collection has been published.

Maybe

Maybe I just needed a new perspective –
like the famed Hanged Man of tarot –
committed to some deep, internal need,
I willed a horizontal shift; landed with intent.

Maybe it is not my legs that are disabled,
but a soul longing to escape the continual
discord of perpetual motion, a never-ending
to-do list of the success-driven persona.

Maybe there is a greater purpose for being
that is not encompassed by outer drive –
a mysterious meaning that is revealed only
in the quiet stillness in which I now dwell.

Maybe I have been called to a personal
pilgrimage – a Camino of sorts – a crusade
of spirit designed to cleanse and enlighten –
the journey is certainly arduous enough.

Maybe it is through acceptance, finally
having released a need to control, move,
achieve, accomplish that I am able to
embrace the true lessons of suffering.

Maybe this cocooning is an act of Grace
demanding surrender before the actual
transformation occurs, and I will emerge,
legless or not, winged and ready to soar.

Maybe, just maybe, this stripped down,
barren existence is not a penance for
shameful living, but a desert crossing,
offering re-alignment: hard-fought peace.

(Maybe first appeared here Feb. 2017. Image my own)

Lighting Call

Winter defines this stage,
this page, night descending
too early for my taste

If I catch a falling star,
can I shed the excess
layers of this confinement

Follow animal impulses
to a sunnier clime, restore
exuberance of noble youth?

Passion persists, intelligence
intact, just need a brighter
angle from which to reveal it.

(Lighting Call first appeared here January, 2019.
Linking up with Reena’s Xploration challenge: light. I
mage my own.)

Pestilence

Words, like crickets
leap from my mind
chirping pests whose
trajectory eludes
dulled reflexes,
scuttling about
periphery of logic

Harmless, really,
in the singular –
cacophony of multitudes
threatening to multiply
take with them
semblance of sanity

Intuit a rhythm
I counsel self
to define the notes

in workable phrases
capture essence
and reason message

but the invaders
adverse to linearity
disappear beneath
the floorboards
of my conscious mind.

(Found this poem, languishing in my blog archives.
Edited, and with an updated title, thought it might
be worth a second look. Art my own.)

Open To Healing

Open to healing –
create a space for inspiration
delve into the subconscious

Enter with pure intentions
ignore limited capabilities –
no offerings are meager –

Embrace new starts
with faith in ability –
be spurred into action

Self holds the answers
creative expression is key –
no expertise required.

(Open to Healing first appeared here in August, 2015.
Edited for this post. Art my own)