A Braid of Frost and Felt

A previously joint project in experimental conjoined creativity...perhaps it will wander back there someday..right now it is what it is, somewhat solo...mostly poems and pictures...occasionally wandering into my interests in Houdini, Lewis Carroll, keys, time, birth and many more of the odd explorations that make me, well me

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Coney Island is where Brooklyn ends and Houdini history begins

your shadow stays in the sideshow still
your roots taken hold, grounding you down
where they will
even as you forward flow, you pass
into stardom, into headlines
into death and history and time
you remain
rooted in the subtle strangeness of this space
in the energy of the impossible, placed through this air
this beach, along the sand of the city outreach
where my feet are searching for the feel
of your footprints upon this path, this past
where i know they have been, know they are real
what did you fold up, pull off, reveal?
did you remove your garters, your socks, your shoes?
stepping, sinking into the pull, soft sand
a coin turning, thoughts burning, in the flip of your hand
and the path pulling you back
to the carnival of performance, to the celebration of oddness
cultivating your career
does life draw you back to this vividness
this here?
to walk sentimental along the wood-paved ways
reliving the day you met, you married
you made your turn of luck, your turn of phrase
and carried forward to change places and people
with your everything, your escapes
in these island alleys, once alight with your energies
what memories lie here concealed?
did you ever return to gaze, to rise into air
to fly upon the Wonder Wheel?
it could have held you with an anniversary appeal
and it’s still here
the turn of time, the view, the change
though cycle back to now, and it all remains
look beyond, fall forward, because this is your world
where your shadow rises from the sideshow stalls
calling you, synonymous with magic
still the same, still heard
here, in the haunts of vaudeville, you remain
remembers and roots wrapped round, holding your name
saving it sacred, a catch of a key
a whisper into the sands, a moment upon my mouth
then sound slipping into sea and carried back to land and found
as the time blurs beyond, pushing past
from fireworks, to flashing stage lights, fast
to magic, to the metal of escapes
to a semblance of song and trunk tricks
to where we all fit flexible, where we can belong
as the dizzy ditties float out to the wave-smooth sand
and walk along, with footsteps sinking
solid prints, a step, a dance, a proper turn
to the beat of the sideshow, the forward flow
and on we go, to learn
with the pulse of performance still on our lips
sandy in our silks of costuming, our skills of conjuring
with the show resuming, quietly
just for you, just for me
though even here, with its magic and appeal
all is temporary
and i have to let you go, Harry
forward and back to where we stand in our times
each by this sea, and the printed sand reminds
of a turn, of a time, and we will sink slowly into each now
as your own roots sink back deeply, down
through this raucous realm, this revelry just beyond reality
through into sand
into stardom, into headlines
into death and history and time
to where Coney Island will bring you back to my mind

by, earthboundpixie

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tell me stories

i am a keeper of keys, creating quietly
collecting what comes
the metal, the rust, the words
opening stories
private, protected, obscured
tellings of trust and a willingness to be heard
because people like to talk to me
and i listen, i hear
with that place in me that can believe
that is open still to the voices of trees
and hears the past gone, as it silent-speaks
with the people who find me upon this path
in this present, in this place
because, as i hold that key
the belief stays open to possibilities
probable and impossible
and i forget all those labels, to feel free
to think, to reimagine
to create these little corners, little coves
to manifest the moments into memory
where all is what could be, or maybe never
being beyond the realm of probability
though, remember we have forgotten those terms
and taken their power
tucked it into the placement of words
is that how the story goes?
where your words, your voice and you
are like keys, and i will hold them carefully
so, speak to me in stories
tell it to me again
because i do like to listen

by, earthboundpixie

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i have been told that i am a good listener

in these layers of quiet
the shadows are laced with dry moss
they whisper of returning with the rain
as i step into the cloak of shade corner
kept beneath the sun, beneath the tree
to wait
upon the stacked stone, the forgotten stone
grey dissolving into green, growing
into a someday-swallow, into the unseen
though in this here, now
it is, visible and supporting
as i wait in this shade soaked space
forgetting or forgotten
placing patterns in acorns and old leaves
circles spread upon the brightness of my dress
a small contrast, a little to distract
thinking maybe you forgot
as the circles shift into lines, into waves
and the moss whisper of returning with the rain
to presence, to softness
and here, you step into this
i lift my hand outstretched into your remembrance
from this play of placement, from this core of me
acorn small in the heart of my palm
and you tell me you want more
so i rise, spilling the patterns of my dress
collecting in circles, in lines, in waves
around you
like the shadows, like the tiny treasures of seeds and leaves
like brightness out of nothing
firefly sudden
sinking back into the shade, into the whispering moss
do you hear them too?
with their quiet talk of renewal
so small, you have to listen low
your face to the ground
lips almost pressed against their quietness
dry tickle of a whisper
and you see what we have found
as they weave the words into hope
into brightness
the sounds sudden and small
still in soothing shadow, in circles, in layers
from out among acorns
we raise our shoulders, our mouths
ourselves to the rain
and everything is an exhaling
as i place-press the acorn palmed, from mine to yours
held now between, in the weave of hands
of lines, of lives
and together we breathe, whispering words
of warning, of hope, of renewal, of growing
you have to listen low
lips almost pressed against our quietness

by, earthboundpixie

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inner-underworlds and invitations

there is a forest inside of me, it lives in the inbetweens
of blood and air, of fall and spring
and only i can see its wanderings
all contained, caught up within this skin
and cells and secrets
and these layers of living that are called me
though when the lines blur and life pulls
i can feel it surfacing
the towering calm, the roots stretching on
and i tend toward tiny, there upon the path
left wondering did the trees come out? did i go in?
somehow we are both contained, a complexity unrestrained
and i am temporarily saved from city-heat, from reality
from expectation, from this continuing creation of me
for a moment, for a time
counted and measured and released
so i can just be, within the shadows of inner-underworlds
dapple-light drawn, upon these surfaces, there and gone
like scales, like sheer wings
and i will shed humanity
to be a creature, an elf, a tree, an everything-all-at-once
no lines, no boundaries
and a leap once upon, once again back into me
tiny upon the path
how is that?
where is this again?
can i get back? or out, or in?
no questions no speaking
just being
just be
the way out comes with a key, with a flash
when the right place is passed
when the right eye is met
when the outside is in, and those recognized will not forget
so
this is my forest, woven full
go on
reach out reach in
the leaves
you’ll find them real
and all over
me
and look down
you too
are they green and soft, with velvet beneath?
or rustle reds, crunch and curl? or something inbetween?
i am thinking apple green and alive
and if we move together they will flutter unfurl, into a divide
the air a storm of sensation and filtered light
where we are trees touching, tracing
bracing soft bellies and bark
beneath
between the blood and air, between the fall and spring
in this here, our eyes are meeting
met
a flash, a light lit, impossible to forget
a falling through
with the forest growing inside
and i will remember you
like roots, like leaves, like parts of me

by, earthboundpixie

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