A change of linens, pillows plumped and
mattresses flipped over, spritz of mist
smelling of warm cloves and milk— then finally
I might fall asleep. Sometimes, deep in the night
it rains; and in the morning I find it hasn’t been
a dream. Tarot waiting to be read on a wet
driveway— random lilac, red maple; sharp
green spades that cradled gardenias: what
do they know of warnings and misfortune?
Leaf of the cherry, red heart, organ of fire:
I name you as if I could thread your bones;
I name you not knowing your mystery.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Always a Story
- Landscape with Sudden Rain, Wet Blooms, and a Van Eyck Painting
- Letter to Implacable Things
- Landscape, with Cave and Lovers
- Miniatures
- Letter to Self, Somewhere Other than Here
- Ghazal with a Few Variations
- Letter to Silence
- Landscape, with Returning Things
- Postcard to Grey
- Not Yet There
- Letter to the Street Where I Grew Up (City Camp Alley, Baguio City)
- Between
- Parable of Sound
- Letter to Providence
- Glint
- The Beloved Asks
- Letter to Longing
- [poem temporarily removed by author]
- Twenty Questions
- [poem temporarily removed by author]
- Interlude
- Villanelle of the Red Maple
- Letter to Leaving or Staying
- Salutation
- Letter to Love
- Letter to Fortune
- Territories
- Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe
- Dear season of hesitant but clearing light,
- [poem temporarily removed by author]
- Singing Bowl
- [temporarily removed by author]
- Risen
- Refrain
- [poem temporarily hidden by author]
- Dear heart, I take up my tasks again:
- Night-leaf Tarot
- [poem temporarily hidden by author]
- Risk
- Vocalise
- Tremolo
- Interior Landscape, with Roman Shades and Lovers
- Bird Looking One Way, Then Another
- Gypsy Heart
- Like the Warbler
- Landscape with Carillon
- Letter to Ardor
- Landscape, with Salt and Rain at Dawn
- Marks
- Landscape, with Sunlight and Bits of Clay
- Slaying the Beast
- Measures
- In a Hotel Lobby, near Midnight
- Landscape with Shades of Red
- Between the Acts
- Letter to Duty
- Letter to Nostalgia
- You
- Song of Work
- Balm
- Landscape, with Wind and Tulip Tree
- From the Leaves of the Night Notebook
- Letter to What Must be Borne
- Redolence
- Letter to Myself, Reading a Letter
- Trauermantel
- Foretelling
- Aubade, with Sparrow
- Reverie
- Mineral Song
- Layers
- Prayer
- Proof
- Landscape as Elegy for the Unspent
I love the connection between the flipped leaves and Tarot cards! Wish I’d thought of it.
…what /do they know of warnings and misfortune?/ Leaf of the cherry, red heart, organ of fire: /…I name you as if I could thread your bones;/ I name you not knowing your mystery.
MORNING TEA BANTER
That dream of some rain in the dead of night,
what do you make of it, Stick? I ask my errant
escort leaning on the porch wall at tea time.
“Huh? What rain? Who is in pain?” It blustered.
More riddles than secrets fly with the wind:
the mystique lurks in strewn cherry blossoms.
Like tea leaves in divining cups at the temple,
the petals now pell-mell on the pavement beg
for a name to pin her will-o’-the-wisp down.
Where, in what undiscovered country, would
she find the luring shadow of her vision?
Or is it a yearning these leaves could not see?
“A tea-leaf? Did you see the absconding thief?”
A roused Stick, rocked from wooden stupor,
growled. I swirled the tea leaves down the pot,
and poured a steaming spot into my empty cup,
straining to see through its roiled and rippled
surface if the redheart leaf bodes fortune or grief.
—Albert B. Casuga
05-28-11
I first wrote in to say how much I loved Luisa’s poem (a bit late in discovering it, I know)–but I like Albert’s too. I may play tomorrow! Or I may work on something different.
Your blog inspires me in so many ways. Thank you!
Thank you, Kristin. When Mornng Porch was off (Dave was in Wales), I responded to Luisa’s posts on Via Negativa as prompts.
Now, I find myself responding to MP and Luisa’s VN posts. I don’t know how long I could sustain this regimen, but it helps me a lot in honing my craft. Thanks to Dave for the opportunity.
(:– )]
Hey, thanks for saying that. I hope your poem turned out well.