Inner and Outer Worlds Permeate Poetic Pulse and Melody
by Steven McCabe
The streetcar stops beneath a railroad overpass
Snow still on the ground.
Melody stirring a pot of homemade soup
In the apartment she shares with her mother
Near the courthouse.
A scratchy sofa
Something forgettable on TV
I pass through her kindness like a boat cut loose.
How can I prevent
What I don’t know will happen?
Her eyelids lower
Contemplating a surreal image,
Her laughter like the northern lights,
Her smile
A Maya Deren film.
Jealous ghosts
Lay in wait on darkened country roads
Rising against immortal young gods
Speed-yearning into the future.
Does one simple gesture reconfigure a timeline?
Take the second bowl. The cauldron of vocation.
Leave town with her though you hardly know her.
Study poetry or dowsing,
Wash the ghosts away,
Listen to the northern lights sing into her,
Singing blacktopped roads into a charcoal labyrinth.
poemimage 
I find the poem really evocative. I felt today I was in deep communication with the I of the poem when I was reading it.
Thank you for this thought. Perhaps the quest of the I in the poem extends beyond the situation of the then and aims in a direction you experience to in the now.
this stunned me because it connected so closely to something i am remembering and wrestling with. as ‘Symbol Reader’ said, ‘evocative’ and ‘deep communication’. Perhaps this is the essence of true poetry, to remind us of our essence…to make real our links to the past and future. I hear your words and see your images…all dances together in an eternal waltz…
Thank you John. I wonder if there isn’t some voice trying to be heard that we pick up on through all our phases and experiences and gains and losses. ‘Links to the past and future…our essence’ you suggested.
I feel fortunate, Steven, that your cauldron tips in this direction. I loved this piece …it was like dreaming in a foreign language. Interested in your references, I watched “Meshes of the Afternoon” and an interview with Maya Deren. Then from your tags, researched the Celtic “Three Cauldrons of Poesy”. With all of this background now…your piece still stands on its own…lovely and haunting.
‘Like dreaming in a foreign language.’ Now I’m wondering if waking hours are simply a lesson in learning this language. Thank you for your interest in following those trails.
Wow! “Something forgettable on TV” … “pass through her kindness like a boat cut loose” … “How can I prevent …” Melancholy, powerful work.
Thank you for connecting ‘melancholy’ and ‘a boat cut loose.’ Adds a new dimension.
Like dowsing for a timeline amongst a sea of time, Steven? Moving through panes of the eternal present, so that internal, eternal, external, and terminal are all points of perspective of a single slice. You sure serve up rich food around here, Steven. Thank you.
Oh, and it is such an interesting study of your hand at work- in contemplation, like a figure in repose. I wish I could describe why, but it makes perfect sense.
‘Like a figure in repose’ you said (when considering the image of a hand) sensing what the unseen, larger part of the picture shows. this adds to my understanding of contemplation.
A timeline in a sea of time. That’s a rich phrase and idea itself. Thank you Jack.
Thank you everybody for these rich thoughts. I of course did not do any of them justice with my replies. I’ve had this cast on my foot for a month now and have hit a bit of brick wall in terms of energy. Trying to reconfigure that now.
Steven, this series of works is FABULOUS!!! Love it!!!
Thank you MIchelle! I’m very happy to hear you think so!
Magic in every way.
Thank you Karen (a thank you going in every way).
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