Monthly Archives: October 2014

Shadow’s Convention


A glosa woven with a verse from John O’Donohue’s poem

For the Unknown Self

“It works most resolutely at night
As the poet who draws your dreams,
Creating for you many secret doors,
Decorated with pictures of your hunger”

It begins, gentle tinkling tones
as Gods and Goddesses gather –
this their nightly author’s convention
a showcase for elaborate plots
always unwritten, briefly glimpsed –
fluid lines streaming blessings and plight.
Behold the Shadow’s space, at once
hallowed and profane, demanding
discernment of dedicated light.
It works most resolutely at night,

says the God of Security, whose goal
it is to marshall and parcel all one desires and fears
in cinematic wrappings, poised for discovery
exploration, awareness, perhaps even integration.
Nocturnal cops and robbers, angels and demons
writhe together, their compelling schemes –
horrifying terrors and joyful reunions –
collectively commanding slumber’s energy,
“Wake up now! Examine these puzzling themes!”
As the poet who draws your dreams,

describing future’s past
and history’s present
I’m suggesting your waking attendance
hang with my nightly verse. Give
All That Is a voice, movement,
visibility. Generate from Shadow’s spores
a life centered through focus and insight.
Know this: an utter cosmos
of unknown-knowing offers nightly tours
creating for you many secret doors

to all desire, in this life, or any other.
Now, follow your award-winning monsters
with the dedication of dark to night
and day to sun. Resolve to unpack
treasure where Shadow casts
over nightly adventures torn asunder.
For this is where alchemy transforms the slick,
the slime, and the scare of Your Shadow into gold
powered by those mighty nightly sails down under
Decorated with pictures of your hunger.

© Lori Fleming, 2014


A Goddess and Backbone Named ISIS

A scene photographed out on the Dungeness Spit, a narrow 5.5 mile coastal spit stretching out to the Straits of Jaun de Fuca.

A scene photographed on the Dungeness Spit, a narrow 5.5 mile coastal spit, stretching out to the Straits of Juan de Fuca.


What acceleration spun

Us out to sit in silence

Upon this tiny strip of land?

Me, a Winged Gullness

Who heals, a Goddess of ISIS,

Sharing name and perch

With this backbone of ISIS,

A Skeletal artwork element

Of a war drawn and consumed

Till all that remains are

We two symbols,

Stranded upon this

Narrow path atop

A sea of saltwater’s foam.


The Dungeness Spit seen from Hurricane Ridge.


© Lori Fleming, 2014


A Drone’s View – A Glosa


A drone’s view of Chimney Beach where a womb of stone can be seen.

Autumn Leaves Dropping…

When we founded the light,
Our pride gave way to love
Our souls were conjugated silent
In a perfect verb with its own shine.

~ Gavriel Navarro


Made from Source’s stone
this womb stands
riveted in space and time
an instrumental core, our
heart’s kingdom evidenced
from whence darkest night
sounded incipient desire
for a Phoenix with vision.
Thus sound premiered as sight
when we founded the light,

its energy chaotic
yet marshalled, organizing
into eye and wing – vision
interpreting void at last.
It was at once terrifying
and gratifying, viewed from above –
heart’s force tormented
within its own heat amidst
gravid flame’s unforgiving glove.
Our pride gave way to love

for potential, even as imagery
formed, flailing
in unspeakable pain
pursuing All heart’s quest
to see itself and be known.
Evil, unfettered and vibrant,
entered cosmic comprehension,
galvanized around Heart’s
tendency toward tyrant.
Our souls were conjugated, silent,

the eminence of destruction
pondered, this inescapable
truth-filled view of Self.
In reverence, Source architected
a womb of sacred stone,
malefic power’s cradle and shrine
where all that is savage and savaged
might hear a holy lullaby, salvaged from
pain, passion and ecstasy divine –
in a perfect verb with its own shine.

© Lori Fleming, 2014

The verses above have been crafted using a variation
on the glosa poetic form, weaving new lines with the opening quatrain
of Gavriel Navarro’s poem, Autumn Leaves Dropping….
The variation noted manifests as a set of verses exploring
a subject outside the topic of Navarro’s original poem.

Eye Imagine



It begins in our dreams
whole-hearted creation
flowing down moonlight beams

It begins in our dreams
healing sight streams
ink trailing evocation

It begins in our dreams
whole-hearted creation.

© Lori Fleming, 2014