August 2013: I joined a large poetry postcard project. Every day, I wrote and sent a card of my art with a poem written on it.
click on postcard to enlarge
Meteor Shower over
Horse Heaven, Washington Pounding the earth, wild horses Trample over small fossils of their ancient kin--- Those prehistoric horses small as dogs Whose crumbling bones lie in broken herds of basalt. Wild horses bolt past dusty cottonwoods Lining the Snake River. They lope over blue green sage, Running broad backed into the moonless night, Under the cold stampede of stars. Poem and art by Anita Endrezze |
“Heaven has different Signs---to me---“
Emily Dickinson Motion contains the dancer in her joyful meditations. She is gathered by the energy we feel in dawn and lightning--- and the murmuration of birds is the soulful marshaling of muscle and spirit. Heaven is not just the Holy Migration--- but the whirling prayers of music heard from the filaments of stars and violins. |
Who are you, child of chance,
who doesn’t hesitate to ask if the Light will illuminate your mortal way? A butterfly lives a month but never wonders why. Note: this poem goes with butterflies to the left |
God’s keyhole
Somewhere they are gassing this one And that one is beaten by her husband. At dusk, the book closes And rivers dry up. A woman’s finger Touches a star when the bomb goes off. The book is said to be a holy door, Every word true to god’s robed men while women’s voices are dust under boots. The tree that knew god is wounded with acid, fruit shriveled in the Great Garden. Angels guarded that gate, too, Not letting the riffraff back in. In Heaven, the Eye Is blind. Note: the image is from my grandmother's Slovenian prayer book, circa late 1800s. |