by Steven McCabe
I realized (too late)
We had left alchemy
Out of the equation
Stars, pathways, and
I hastened to manipulate
The voluminous footnotes to my
Rounding and pulling
Like working with clay.
Like working with love.
My apologies began
It is never too late
Beautiful, Steven. I like the idea of puzzle pieces – at least, that’s how they seem to me – some solid, some perhaps easily disintegrating.
Thank you Karen. Love the idea of puzzle pieces. Some easily disintegrating. Crumbling? Fading? Dust? Ashes? Love the tactile approach.
this is lovely Steven – I caught the short version last night and was coming back this morning to have a another look – very pleased I got to see both
Thank you Veronica, I appreciate that you returned. And thank you for your warm thought.
This is just gorgeous! And I love the boldness of that last image – quite shocking, but perfect.
Thank you Richard, I appreciate your assessment! I rarely use images like that last one but thought ‘well, why not?’
I so agree with everyone here, Steven ….
The surprising rhyme at the end like the sound of a temple bell ringing
Thank you Jana, A temple bell ringing. What a beautiful image. About a rhyme. A surprise rhyme. Many thanks.
I still haven’t figured out how to comment on your last post, Steven, and now this. I am scrambling. There is a true harmony. A longer resonating hum as you assert something new that you believe, with all the compass of your self, is important and valid, so you’ve wagered truth upon it.
I love the static tension of the images in relationship to the almost frenetic imagery that the poem conjures as the voice does his best to see the whole past with a new perspective. Who is willing to go back and see everything redefined? There is a peaceful energy about the whole affair, bolstered by that quiet half hidden eye in the chest / throat of the figure. Thank you, Steven for sharing all this. It all seems fresh and alive.
Hi Jack, I love how you work through your process of thought and observation here. In particular I am going to imagine ‘a longer resonating hum’ in relationship to ‘that quiet half hidden eye in the chest/throat of the figure.’ A cry? A psalm? Thank you Jack.
Wow! What a line this one in particular … “I hastened to manipulate/
The voluminous footnotes to my/Apology.” Wow.
Thank you so much Nell, I’m glad that line speaks to you.
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