Where text meets image. Where the visual intersects the literary. Often posting 1st drafts and editing in (almost) real time.

Month: December, 2012

Cubed by Steven McCabe

scan with feather


You are a jigsaw puzzle

Each piece

Melting in my mouth

alter scan f

from Hierarchy of Loss – Ekstasis Editions – 2007

Thunder Under by Steven McCabe

solstice facei.psd

The craziness of the Tutankhamen project

…a staircase destination


Tombs whistling through the Red Sea

Rising from the golden headdress smooth

As a calf’s haunch

Your calves kicking

Legs splayed

Below the fire–ferned sky

…the night raining papyrus

detail c

You’re sorry

Inking your name on a stick to poke the fire

…bells stringing your ankles

detail 4

Shoehorn the slippery forest drinking an


Rest your head — forget everything

…fit the night into a seashell

solstice facei.psd

from Hierarchy of Loss – Ekstasis Editions – 2007

Exercise 8 (or On Longing) by Pierre L’Abbé in response to Plein verre, Pierre Reverdy, (May 1940)


As I walk the corners of the line square

line square

29end of the line

 I realize there is somewhere “I might live

that is already lost to me”

deep sea face

It may lie outside this plane


On days when my heart circumscribes the straight

wall line

On days when my heart precedes me

circumnavigating the straight


 It is the celebration of this summer

on the lateral


 while my body an orifice drinking through winter


so I go my heart before me

possessing it

small glow

and suckle on the end of the line

that divides me from myself

too often

 where if only I were to make it to the end of this line

before the line


so would I watch its own application

evaporate as it goes before me

curling itself into flat spheres that are these points

of line for to be always


before me



face and circle

I know where I am and where this place is

that may allow me to be


It is of course the journey of the line

that joins them to me

that is unknown


It is. It is that it eludes me

were that all my longing would resolve into joy

were it a path to be found


Pierre L’Abbé has translated Pierre Reverdy and is currently responding to Reverdy’s poetry.

slowwhite on white

On Raglan Road by Patrick Kavanagh

flower feathery

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew

That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;

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The Mermaid by William Butler Yeats

inkimage mix2

A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.