Tag Archive | owl

I look out my window

I look out my window.  The moon is inside.

 

 

The veil is thin.

 

–The Odalisque

 

(can’t see the movie?  try here.)

bellyful of light

owl_handwriting_owlagainHELLO.

ODALISQUE IS POOR SCRAPBOOK MAKER THESE DAYS.

DO YOU KNOW WHY?

OWL KNOWS WHY.

OWL TAKES HATS FROM SIMPLE RUNNING FOLK TO WEIGH DOWN ODALISQUE BRAIN.

TO NO AVAIL.

COLD IT IS AND HARD TO FLY.

OWL WANTS STARLING FOR FOOD.

ODALISQUE SAYS NO.

BUT STARLINGS ARE SO MANY AND OWL ONLY ONE.  WHY NOT EAT A STARLING, ODALISQUE?  WARM STARLING BLOOD SQUIRTS THICK IN OWL GULLET.

ODALISQUE SCOWLS AT UNCIVILIZED OWL.

STARLINGS MAKE PICTURES IN THE SKY.  STARLINGS SWARM.  STARLINGS TWITTER UP DAWN  FEED ON MARSH GRASSES THAT FEED ON LIGHT.  STARLINGS, SOMETIMES, WEAR HATS, AND ARE FASHIONABLE.  STARLINGS LIKE OWL FLY.

OWL SEES FROM OBELISK LAND BLISTERING COLD.  STARVED.

FEED ME FEATHERS FED ON GRASS THAT ON THE SUN FEEDS.

NOCTURNAL OWL SEEKS SUNLIGHT
SOLAR FUEL POWERS NIGHTLY FLIGHT.
SUN IS STAR WHOSE LIGHT OWL EATS
IN BIRD AND MOUSE FROM BLADE AND SEED,
ODALISQUE, IN CUSHIONED NIGHT
OWL WINGS ARE QUIET, OWL CLAWS PRECISE.
OWL IS UNCIVIL, OWL DOES NOT SLEEP
OWL HUNTS FOR LIFE TO ON LIGHT FEED.

owl_signature

 

 

 

three’s a charm (Happy New Year 3)

Yes, we are here.  So soon after the solstice it’s Happy New Year.  Year THREE of my life in the obelisk has just passed by.

This year Hawk found a record underneath a rock.  We called it crow morphology and tried, unsuccessfully, to decipher it.  Henriette sent a postcard–she found a job in Venezuela!  I invited her to visit us in the obelisk, but I haven’t heard from her again.  I dreamed on cosmic dream radio: deer crashing, and a song from the sountrack of my favorite movie.   I wondered “Are you bringing me flowers?”  (YOU.  YES YOU.)   Black Swan did bring flowers from the marsh but Hawk brought me a squirrel tail  which Owl promptly ate.  I was so glad.  I mean, sad.

For the solstice, the birds made me a niche.  Three years in the obelisk and I finally have a niche!

Owl just lifted one foot then stomped it on my desk to remind me that Owl, also, made scrapbook pages while a certain Odalisque was off dreaming in a funk.  Owl wrote about Owl things here and here.

As usual, I got more crazy notes burnt on my pillow by the phoenix.   And google eyes agoged (FIND ME YOU YES YOU).

Here are some pictures from my scrapbook this year:

Here is a dream I dreamed:

 

city dreams

owl_handwriting_owlagain

owl on sill

 

 

 

 

 

ODALISQUE DOES NOT SAY HELLO NO SHE DOES NOT.

I AM SORRY.

I AM TRYING TO RECORD HER DREAMS IT IS VERY HARD.

MAYBE I WILL SHARE ONE SOON.

I AM SORRY SHE HAS NOTHING TO SAY.

I HAVE THINGS TO SAY.

HELLO I AM OWL.

I SAY

in a dark and dated hotel room with the boy you tried to kiss his name the name of greek statues the ones that hold up temple porches

get ready.  before a plate glass mirror get ready

to fly north for an event.

planes to catch in metallic hangars it is so hard to get to these planes.

city streets treacherous they all drop down into round-a-bout  bottoms like the bottoms of bowls.  bowl bottom is stable equilibrium says math class.  no catching a plane in the bottom of a bowl without a dose of irrational energy.

intellectual inadequacy.

i fly.  afraid to lose the earth.  no worries.  boy and girl are bound to earth.  i bear them.

skateboard sky.

sidewalk man in suspenders makes chalk mandalas on the concrete very colorful they are.

maybe he is the one.

that girl has fantastic boots.  red cross-stitched.

maybe she is the one.

will the bicycle make it up the hill, out of the city, to that dark road running home?  see road slope and curve beneath o’erhanging trees shadow trees where insects sing.

OWL sings.

we / land / ground / earth on a paved plaza.

event hotel!  off-center lobby.  elevators to rooms where folded schedules are forgotten.  long brown halls.  stumble upon an intimate, semi-circular hall where businesspeople in frumpy suits karaoke made-up lyrics to classic rock songs.  in one room girl having an argument with staff about what she knows to be true.  time to go home.  surely the event is practically over time to catch another plane.  for vacation.  girl can’t find keys to room where her things are and can’t remember where her room is but

look a forest.  a cube of forest bounded by glass. stunning concept.  balanced with fore-thought / but wild.  red leaves / peacock blues of ever-greens.  deep deep ground forest sunk so to see into canopy

technicolor forest caged between glass viewing corridors of event hotel.

here was well thought-out.  here is worthy of contemplation.  here be still.

owl_handwriting_thankyousigningoff

 

 

 

are you awake?

i am writing you it is the longest night of the year.  there are astronomical charts and time tables which tell me this is so.
no matter when you read this let it be known: I wrote this on the longest night of my second obelisk year.

I am vigilant.  the birds are asleep.  crow/parrot is nesting on the teapot. black swan’s head is tucked into a wing with a hammer.  hawk’s claw clasps a chisel.  starlings sleep in my tree, which is perfect because they will rustle and chirp at exactly the necessary moment.

I have an obelisk-improvement plan which begins with our marking tomorrow’s first ray of light.  I’ll show you what we do, but you’ll have to wait until next year.

now, now now, cold and colder (metaphysically).  the obelisk receives information on its obtuse cosmic angle as it (as we) tilt far back on our polar heel, away from the atomic crematorium called sun.  I am wearing my coat and holding phoenix, who burns my candle at both ends.

i don’t like these long nights.

tomorrow night will be one minute shorter than this night!  every minute counts when you’re all alone in an obelisk and your friends are birds who go to sleep with the sun.

correction: owl doesn’t sleep with the sun, but where is owl?  out torturing the rodents who plant seeds in my bed when I’m not looking.  all kinds of seeds stashed in my bed!  will they sprout to my warmth when i sleep sound?

i sleep in sound.  mice eat the seeds.  owl eats the mice.  owl eats the trees, twice-removed.  the marsh flowers and the burnet grasses.

i like my solitude, but these dark days weigh heavy on me.

are you awake, too?  hush holy in the old days, before people like you and I understood the earth’s axial tilt, how it–not the sun–moves.  There was a time when night-wakers-we would labor with rites and song to call back the cold sun.  come back, chariot of cosmic fire!  run your course directly o’er, you barely crest the distant edge of our apparently flat fields.

people like you and I, night-wakers-we, would worry about star-lit days and moon-less night.  the trees are already dead and if the sun said “no, i won’t come back” and didn’t, they would have stayed that way, bare of leaf, electrical snappage in a voltless day-called-night.  we would have been eaten by the night-hunters, like owl.

crow-who-is-parrot cracks one eye as if crow were wholly crow, and croaks “some day some day”.  it is true.  one day the sun will burn out.  go back to sleep, parrot-who-is-crow.

I am glad to KNOW that this is the longest night this solar year.    Tomorrow night will be a little bit gentler than this one here.

my winter solstice, 2013 scrapbook page.   happy hol [ly] days.

figure_solstice_orion_ahome

fig 3

alignment

vernal equinox, 20:44 (UTC).

everything is aligned.

and crow is crow!

our experiment

our experiment

transparent bar

<************update (20:45 UTC)************>

is [was]

broken egg with parrot

Sand [y]

It’s sandy here.  I don’t know what happened.   Wind outlandish wind a storm of wind that rattled the bed frame and deflowered windows, shattering glass.  In the morning, a pile of sand, like an hourglass emptied on the floor of my obelisk.  What duration was being measured?  What, now that the sand has sifted, will soon cease?  Is it bad luck to smash a glass of hours?  What will I do with this temporal pile of sand?

Crow would like me to build an impermanent castle.  Black swan says sand is good for wallowing in, shuffling grit into the itchy place between the wings.  The starlings swoon in discrete calculations- one grain per pursed beak, which will be more numerous?

Hawk sees in the pile of sand a microcosmic manifestation of our parched souls.

I need a broom.  It was Halloween and I wanted to be a witch because that’s what you call women who fly.  I want to fly but I don’t have a broom, so I dressed up as Owl instead.  Owl took one look at my costume and said “isn’t that a bit like gilding the lily?”  I’m not sure if “lily” refers to me or Owl.

Owl was disgruntled with all costume choices.  “Why can’t I be a fish or a movie star or a fantastic aviation device?” moaned Owl, clearly under the influence of my first movie (have you watched it?)  No, Owl is, this year, a very perturbed cupid.  Here we are, with my inexplicable heap of sand:

Owl has no access to electrical equipment at this time, so we had to take a photograph of ourselves in our costumes.  I will post a scanned version, soon.

-The Odalisque

**Here’s the scanned version of our Halloween costumes.  It enlarges :

Halloween, 2012

fashionable owl!

I forgot the owl!

Owl was not into fashion like the other birds.

Regard Owl, irritated, on the shoulder of an odalisque.

fashionable Owl/contorted Odalisque

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