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Random Photo: The Ply of Shadow

Poem: The Instrument of Gath

All majesty is beneath you

Your unspeakable name
the pre-liminal shrug
of earthquake

Shrieking crack
shouted out sotto voce
into the feet of dogs, horses,
and other animals

Tremble of dust
on scuffed earth

I play the instrument of Gath
only to conceal you.

All your glory is set below
in nether heavens
tectonic rifts
shrieking cracks

Into which enemy angels
scream their praises
plops cratered

In the silence
the birds have stopped singing

Playing the instrument of Gath
I can only conceal you.

As you lower me
to the ground
put the stars
beneath my feet
wash my feet
in the blood of eclipse

The instrument of Gath
conceals the work of your fingers.

Domina Nostra, amen longa, oratio brevis.

Note: The image is a part of a scissor dance in progress. The poem may be a work in progress, I don’t know, the muse won’t tell me anything. Also, dusting off the 45 year old high school Latin is inviting peril. Amen longa est?

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Sunday Selfie

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Random Photo

Random Photo: VOID 21

Graffiti, Hilo, Hawaii

Superb Owl: Lammas Loaf, with Salt Eyes

Breakfast at Lammas

Upon the fortieth day
under the enemy sun,
Yeshua,

if you are
bar abbas,
son of the father:

Tell
this
stone
to become bread.

It shall be written, Diabolos
By bread alone
may we ask for a stone.

A stone to move,
a veil to rent,
a trump to play,
women to weep,
dead saints to rise and walk,
choirs of angels to sing,
orisons to remember all our sins,
and the blood
of the lamb
to wash in the stain.

Enough to feed the multitudes
and seven baskets
of broken promises
left over.

Take this bread, Yeshua
but do not eat.
Instead, speak into it
as if it were the ear of God.

She will hear you.

Put it quickly in the coals
of the cooking fire
as if the crust were brimful
of your words.

She will answer you.

I am so hungry,
I am a bone gnawed by God.

Take, speak.

From a previous Lammastide post: Lammas aka Loaf Mass aka Lughnasadh is a feast celebrated on the cross-quarter day halfway between the summer solstice and the autumn equinox, by convenience of tradition, August 1st or 2nd. It is called the feast of first fruits–the fruits of the year’s harvest. The first fruits are honored by baking bread made from flour milled from the new crop of wheat.

By tradition, the first reaping from the field is winnowed, milled, mixed, baked, and consumed all on the day or days (sometimes Lammas is two day affair) of the festival. These days I recommend the freshest bag of Bob’s Red Mill or King Arthur bread flour you can find on the shelf at the local grocery store.

I’m a retired journeyman baker, and I bake bread at home on a semi-regular basis, so this is an easy thing for me to do. If you can’t bear the thought of firing up the oven on the first of August, or baking anything at all is too daunting to face–no worries–the spirit of thing is to honor and give attention to the “daily bread,” the food you put in your mouth on this day, preferably a food handmade from basic, unadulterated ingredients.

Food close to its roots, so to speak, that has some savor of the ground it grew in or place it came from, that’s best, though hunger can make a Twinkie, or potato chips, or a baloney sandwich on Wonder Bread with Miracle Whip, holy. You want to be hungry when you eat the food you’ve consecrated for Loaf Mass. Bringing your hunger to the table is part of what makes the food a holy offering and the table a consecrated altar to whatever god or gods you’ve asked to dinner.

Even if you have no gods (as I don’t), don’t forget to set out an extra plate for an unexpected guest. Place on it a stone. The guest will tell the stone to become bread. When the stone becomes bread, the guest has arrived.

Today’s loaf is rising in the bowl.

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Random Photo

Sunday Selfie: Well, Pilgrim

Walking from Papakolea Beach, Island of Hawaii.

Random Photo: My Feet Are Ravens

Eden: My feet are so wet they’ll turn into ravens!

Whoopah: I wish my feet would turn into ravens.

OK, she probably said raisins, but I heard ravens.

Random Photo: Omega, Spikes

A photo a day keeps the Doctor in play.