The wheel...

The wheel...

Sundog in the fog, I don't have time for a jog, I have to go via a wheel in the cog.

Since I broke my claw, I have to do it with one barely functional paw.

Just grinding in the wheels. 

AquarianM

By: Daniel A Stafford

Copyright 12-08-2023

The Adventures of Captain Yule...

The Adventures of Captain Yule...

He pilots by the North Star,

Maybe a little help from Google Maps,

Driving by Moonlight,

And taillights,

He wanders the three worlds,

Marveling ad the stars spiral around Polaris.

Bringing the spirit of good deeds,

He talks to ravens,

Dogs,

Cats,

People,

Door-holder with a smile,

Embracing thank-yous for any courtesy.

He doesn't take "sir" as a dignifier,

Preferring to walk an even level with everyone,

A simple and capable gentleman,

With a sense of soft and subtle magic about.

An eye-twinkle,

Easy grin,

A spirit of the season,

Traveling Summer's Winter home,

With a head full of snow memories.

Don't be surprised if he whispers to the wind,

That's another of his friends,

Many of whom are spirits.

A child of the old North,

Riding cheer around the Desert on a huge white steed named Behemoth,

He's tall like a tree,

And he loves those too.

Ho, ho, ho,

Captain Yule is back,

The last of the 12th-month heroes.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 11/30/2023

Pre-Hadean Yule...

Pre-Hadean Yule...

Last Christmas before we cross Styx,

The Ferryman is collecting Salvation Army coins,

Ringing a bell,

A bright brass bell .

After this Christmas,

Pluto will be in Aquarius until I'm eighty-two,

Better sing for this yule,

'Cause the water under the boat,

That's all chop on my reflection.

If I see angels on this ride,

I just might need some company,

And gallons of coffee and nog.

Last Christmas before we cross Styx,

The Ferryman is collecting Salvation Army coins,

Ringing a bell,

A bright brass bell .

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 11/28/2023

Grateful For The Birds...

Grateful For The Birds...

A taste for wilderness,

Air that leaves you softly sleeping,

A walk with family,

Soft tawny cool and misty,

A pumpkin pie dream,

Strolling along cranberry rocks in a coffee creek,

Gobbled and gone before you know it,

Sweet while here,

The best holiday,

Feast and friends,

Thank-you whispers,

Straight from an Autumn soul.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 11/22/2023

What I see in a Christmas (Yule) tree:

What I see in a Christmas (Yule) tree:

Star at top of tree: Polaris, the "North Star"

Tree: Yggdrasil, the "world tree" that represents the three worlds of shamanism, lower (roots), middle (spiritual analog to Earth), and upper (where archetypal and other "advanced" spirits live)

Garland on the tree: the path around and through the three worlds

Lights, ornaments, etc on the tree: the "spirits" living in the three worlds. In shamanistic tradition, everything is alive and has a spirit. Also all the stars in the heavens circling the pole star.

Presents at the foot of the tree: gifts from our ancestors, including spiritual wisdom, physical traits, and their time with us. Our ancestors' spirits reside in the underworld/lower world.

Northern tradition / Norse shamanic meditation guide for the Winter months when we turn inward.

AquarianM - Dan Stafford

Autumn's Palette...

Autumn's Palette...

Soft charcoal and wind,

Atop a fire-limned ocean,

Swirling bird clouds dancing,

Spider webs and bursting milkweed,

Cattail seeds tufting on the wind,

The world is damp and at the fringes of life,

Ghosts haunt the fields and hollows,

Bygone Summer days withering away.

Everything dies in color,

Except only the sky,

Awash in endless varietals of grey,

Another year dancing to Autumn's Palette.

AquarianM

By Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 11//11/2023

The Alternity Glamour...

The Alternity Glamour...

Forged in the fires of the Elden Flame,

A cold shroud of logic cloaks the gate,

Hides with the mist of glamour the underlay,

The magical nature of this reality.

We sport Vulcan ears to chase the clues,

All the better to hear quantumn whispers of long ago Wizards,

For it is we who reside in Oz,

As it resides in our hearts.

All we learn,

All we do,

Just to escape the cold sleep of poppy-field logic,

We who awake would cry the names of stars to set them alight.

Crystals are memory's frozen tears,

And everything below the surface glows,

The illusion is constructed of light and will,

To this we are bound by our own covenant,

Dreaming poppy-eyed dreams of the Alternity Glamour,

Waiting to awaken.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 11/05/2023

The Gift Of Elden Romance ...

The Gift Of Elden Romance ...

The easiest place to find magic,

At first blush it must be,

The eyes of a child in amazement,

A playground filled with novelty and make-believe.

We all roam those places in our hearts,

The watercolors of young memories,

Aglow with the magic we can no longer touch.

The faces and voices of those gone on rendered as late-evening cameo,

Misty,

Wisty,

Haven inside.

The thunder of clocks and cash eats our lives all grown,

The places we once knew barren as twig sticks and Winter trees,

For the leaves that fell after Autumn were the magic of them,

They are the real-life skeletons of bygone days,

The bones of the treasures inside us.

Yet I wonder,

When Autumn turns to early Winter in our own weave,

The strings of clocks and gold stretched and frayed,

Might we catch again whispers of magic,

These stories of elden romance we hold,

In the old sense,

The true sense,

Maybe waiting for us to paint-fill a willing open eye,

Or softly pen it to poetry,

If only an ear will hear,

The gift of elden romance.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/30/2023

A Compass I Can Read...

A Compass I Can Read...

Being online these days is jarring,

Disquieting,

Something inescapable even in the wee hours.

Algorithms and AI battle like tin soldiers of the mind,

Interspersed with the snake-rattles of commercial hucksterism,

An outright attack on attention and focus,

Nickel-and-dime scalpel cuts,

Our abraded collective soul weary,

A burr under the saddle of civilization,

The constant buzz and crack of intellect's corrosion.

I find refuge in the finite confines of paper and old sites,

A haven from pop-up battering rams,

A quiet sea of quiet at three o'clock in the morning.

Finally I can cast my line,

Play with thought fish,

Come home with a story of words on my string 

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/29/2023

Sometimes I Really Miss The Olden Days...

Sometimes I Really Miss The Olden Days...


I almost feel like singing Auld Lang Syne.

But I just don't have the time.

The corporate world is calling.

And calling.

And calling.

Calling.

AquarianM

(C) 10/218/2023 By: Daniel A. Stafford

Ode To The Fox...

Ode To The Fox...

Words,

We all play with them,

Dance with them,

Use those words to heal or hurt,

Spinning out of our hearts,

Our essense,

More a soul window than any eye.

The Fox gave those words a home,

Always used the kind ones,

The encouraging ones,

A lavishment of grace.

For those words,

We' ll always be thankful.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/28/2023

Queen 👑 Foxy, thank you, and RIP.

When Autumn Comes...

When Autumn Comes...

Love will break you in the springtime,

Love will burn you,

Baby,

Oh,

In the Summer Sun.

But,

Oh,

Oh,

Oh,

When Autumn comes,

If you're lucky Baby,

That's when the healing,

Starts to,

Get done.

You might wonder,

Honey,

In the dark of night,

If there'll be anything left of you,

By the cold white of Winter's night.

The wind might be howling,

Lover,

As you shiver to the bone,

Watching the hourglass,

Curled up and feeling all alone,

Nowhere,

Darling,

Feels like home.

But,

Oh,

Oh,

Oh,

When Autumn comes,

If you're lucky Baby,

That's when the healing,

Starts to,

Get done.

When I think on you and me,

Baby we,

We're the lucky ones.

But,

Oh,

Oh,

Oh,

When Autumn comes,

If you're lucky Baby,

That's when the healing,

Starts to,

Get done.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/16/2022

Bearing Water For Pluto...

Bearing Water For Pluto...

As October steamrolls Psyche in a flush of rouge leaves dabbling with wind and moving air,

Stars and planets circle our underminds,

A dance of quantum symbology and metaphor.

Ravens whisper drumbeats in Aquarius's inner ear,

Waters slosh within the urn we carry,

Full of the knowledge of Plutonian dreams as we dance with Pluto at the doorway,

Prescient of two decades coming sojourn,

What waters will we drink and pour,

After the Hadean trail is traipsed?

I doubt the relief of Styxian waters,

For we are bound to the dock of the Ferryman,

Living a clockwork journey we were born into.

I wonder, 

Wonder at Persephone's bravery,

Will we break bread with her?

Soon enough we must leave the dock,

Who knows,

Who knows,

The cost,

The coins,

The epic journey to come?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford 

© 10/08/2023

Notes: 

Mentally trying to prepare for 20 years of Pluto transiting Aquarius ♒.

DALL-E prompt:

 "Hades walking up out of a cave door to the underworld under an annular eclipse as a shaman with a raven perched on his shoulder beats a drum next to a campfire and the high Priestess of tarot in purple robes floats in the sky over the cave door and autumn leaves are falling in watercolor"

Minibike Summer Haiku...

Minibike Summer Haiku...

Pull the cord and start,
The bike moves Summer fast,
Speed bought for a dime.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 09/04/2023

Ephemeris...

Ephemeris...

These are things poets know,

The ache of a setting sun,

The passing of a day, 

The ephemeris of the minute details of life.

A flower or a tree,

Magnificent for a moment,

Live their entire lives rooted in the same ground.

The most majestic tempest,

Ended in a day.

Everything is made of mist and sunset,

It just doesn't know it yet.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 08/21/2023

Now It's Personal...

Now It's Personal...

Your scent,

It doesn't get much more personal than that,

This "Pluto in Aquarius,"

This shin-knocker of aging,

As generations behind you take over the world,

While you're still in it.

Since 1977,

Aunt Felicia said it smelled good on me,

Worked with my body chemistry,

I'm not much on fragrance,

Hate most of them and choke,

But this was nice,

Pleasant. 

Speed stick crashed off the track,

Discontinued by younger minds,

Jovan needs to find a new partner,

I need to buy a new bottle every month,

Just in case.

The perils of aging out,

The things that make you you,

I don't want to know,

How much more it could be,

Because now it's personal. 

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 08/05/2023

Author's Note: Colgate wrote back and confirmed that Speed stick "musk" scent is no longer being manufactured, and they have no back stock to offer. I literally have used both of these since 1977. This scent on me is the same age as the first Star Wars movie appearing in theaters. Funny, until it happens to you. To mis-quote Yoda, "It will be, it will be."

Apple Pie Moon Bright Over Lovers At Night By The Sea...

 Apple Pie Moon Bright Over Lovers At Night By The Sea...

Amazingly,

Romanticism can drive deep,

A few choice words with an AI,

The eye and heart connect with Ethernet,

Voila!

Best served warm in the late wee hours,

With a Hand to Hold.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 07/30/2023

Author's Note: The title is the prompt I used with DALLE2 AI to generate the images.

The Hardest Pastel...

The Hardest Pastel...

The Mojave by twilight falls into a dimension somewhere between this and the next.

Visually, it is the epitome of the utmost pastel; The softness of it's color theme rivals wisps of high clouds, or even the tawny grasses of Autumn and ripe milkweed pods near bursting.

The stark contrast from the harsh heat of daylight is in extremis, it's only cousin dust devils twirling across the sand and sage.

By night,

The desert disappears,

Leaving you standing on nothing,

Staring at a billion stars.

Your only hopes are the lonely lights somewhere towards the the invisible horizon.

Nothing else says you're not alone in the void,

Awaiting the arrival of something new and unknown.

I understand now why Art broadcast from the desert night,

Because it shows the smallness of opinion,

And the vastness of reality.

AquarianM 

© 06/26/2023

By: Daniel A. Stafford

A Nobility Of Air...

A Nobility Of Air...

Without air,

Fire cannot burn.

Water cannot rain. 

People can't breathe. 

There is no thought in the brain without oxygen. 

No sunsets nor rainbows. 

No clouds to see shapes in. 

No aurorae. 

Falling stars would never shine, only fall.

This world would be as dead without air as without water.

Nothing would have ever flown, 

Angels would have no need of wings. 

I'm happy to serve with you, my princess and princesses of air. 

It gives me new breath. 

AquarianM

© 05/13/2023 by Daniel A. Stafford 

Sunset Breezes...

The sun may set on another day, but I will reach for the light, despite wicked whispers on the wind; nothing but boughs scraping and leaves rustling. 

- AquarianM 

Fiber Cowboy...

Fiber Cowboy...

It's midnight in the Mojave,

Eight miles out off the pavement,

Stars,

Full Moon,

Power lines hum across country.

It's a four-wheel crawl out here in the dark,

Jolting every bolt,

Mother Nature's rock garden,

With flash-flood ruts,

Throw in some sand features for a couple of miles,

Two-three feet deep. 

You don't stop,

Not until you get to your stop.

People have callede zombie,

Tired dishrag,

Washed-out and grey.

Pushing 55,

Hours that is,

Bean counters wanna cry,

But those fibers don't move themselves,

Nor cards auto swap,

No,

The internet won't stand that,

Nor Superbowl or stock swaps,

Not Googly search nor bing bing sling,

Or calling Grandma. 

You might surf in the dark wee hours,

Right on the back of this tired ol' Fiber Cowboy,

You see a zombie nerd,

But I made sure your internet address saw the light.

Excuse me while I nap in this truck,

Out under high voltage lines and stars. 

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 04/05/2023

Leaving Poetry Heaven...

I watched Louder Than A Bomb today,

Blew me away,

With meaning,

With heart,

With memories. 

If I miss one thing from a place I have to miss most,

Chicago is deep with all that,

Just not January or February. 

The people,

The scenery,

But waay so much the poetry.

We moved to the desert,

Literally,

And literary. 

I used to read live all the time,

Sometimes wrote a poem a day,

Read my first and last live performances at the Green Mill.

It was Christmas of '14,

Caroline helped me fly out of town on a cloud of snaps,

Marc was dark Santa,

It was GLORIOUS. 

Sometimes I hear a poem on the wind late at night,

Maybe a whisper,

Maybe a howl.

Mostly I hear desert dust under my feet. 

AquarianM

By Daniel A. Stafford

© 04/02/2023

Getting Dog-Walked...

People are walking their dogs in the fog, I think it might be better to be home sleeping like a log, but they're still out walking their dogs in the fog. 

I think it must be a good day to be a frog. 

I'm losing sleep because life isn't cheap, but they're still out walking their dogs in the fog. 

Go home, sleep like a log.

- AquarianM

© 03/31/2023

(Poem by Daniel A.Stafford, graphic by DALL-E2)

Moonbeams...

I dream of goodnight like a star over your other shoulder, I can almost reach out and touch it. 

It's nicer when we breathe slow, and the Moon is our uncut apple pie.

- AquarianM