poemimage

Where text meets image. Where the visual intersects the literary.

Month: December, 2021

12/12/21 – 1/2/22 equals 21 days & All Best to You!

Update: I spent the last three days editing (in ‘real time’ on this blog) the poem that started as Ventilator, changed to Starlight, and ended up as Conversation With a Tree. I have a bad habit of posting first drafts then editing over the next few days.

Update: On June 2, 2021 I posted this: https://poemimage.com/category/x-steven-mccabe-1-10-complete-by-one-unit-of-measurement/

I was at that early point 1/10th complete painting a 33′ X 5′ roll of Italian mixed-media paper working left to right.

Today I am 75% complete. Gouache, watercolour, inks, water-soluble graphite crayon. Blues, whites, shades of black. Working title: Druidica Blue – Deja Vu. The themes of this painting carry great meaning for me.

I see light at the end of the tunnel. Soon 80% complete.

A slew of other things also require my attention.

I wish you well over the Solstice, Christmas and Hanukkah season. If I’ve missed your religious experience forgive me. I look forward to your postings when I return.

All best to you!

Conversation With a Tree

I was walking down the street on my way to the club,

though it was a bit early,

to see if my connection in the underworld

could score me a certain device

when I heard my name.

I looked up and saw a big face.

Tree said, ‘Where are you going?’

I said, ‘Canterbury.’

Tree said, ‘Wrong way. And you’re not Chaucer.’

I said, ‘Blake lives down that laneway. Maybe I’m William Blake.’

Tree took a step back and said, ‘William Blake!

Imagine I told you I was a reindeer or a shaman wearing

an enchanted curvilinear headdress.’

I said, ‘You could easily be

and still be Tree.’

Tree stepped back once more and said,

‘Imagine enchanted space all-round, horizontal & vertical.

Me pumping air, enough, for the two of us –

both of us, Blake & reindeer & shaman too

day & night.

So tell me what you really need.’

I considered the question and said,

‘ More so than a certain device

I need the light of one star

flooding my plum, smoke-swirled heart.’

Tree said,In this you are not alone.’

Tree huffed & came up close again curvilinear & vertical

Pointing away, far, to distant golden sand,

horizontal beneath vast night, black as smoke, arcing.

Tree said, ‘Over there. Those three figures

on camel on foot

swirled up & fishing about

aimed into a brilliance

& trudging below,

sloughing into the vast night…’

Tree said, ‘Go.

And while you’re at it, stay away from the underworld.

I know about your connection.’

I said, ‘Okay Tree.’

Tree said, ‘Okay,’ also

in a voice rough as bark

familiar with the underworld.

Two Images in Combination, a Quote From Krishnamurti, the Missing Word Recovered + Yin Yang

One empty space binding two sounds

Two words bind silent-space sound

Three words missing in the empty field

Four words found in neighbouring silence.

It is no measure of ______ to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.

It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly ____ society.

Combination _____.

___________ image.

Monday Report

My posting last week (Bring Out the Trees in the Heart) went from jumble to rumble. From first draft to resonance of final draft in real time over two or three days online editing.

I decided to make chicken soup yesterday but found one potato only. Should I walk 20 minutes & save 1.00 on a bag of organic potatoes or 40 minutes & save 1.75 at a small store I like. Instead I went down to the lakeshore with my artist friends Charles and Marc. We walked around in biting wind & driving thin snow discussing, among other things, the artist Cecily Brown.

A young artist this past week told me about the new movie Trial of the Chicago Seven and wondered what I knew about the subject matter. One thing is connected to another. It brought back a flood of connections I shared with him.

I had an old doctors’ bag like this, although black, the summer I was seventeen and headed out for California. Instead I ended up in a traveling carnival, one of the many that no longer exist, working for an artist who had a psychedelic tent show and two other attractions. I met & dialogued with the (late) artist’s daughter on Facebook.

I remembered the doctors’ bag after watching a few clips of the movie Trial of the Chicago Seven on YouTube and instinctively compared now to then.

Mixed-media on cardboard 8.5″ X 11″ 2020

From jumbled mass

In biting wind & driving thin snow

intuitively

one of the many that no longer exist.

The reason I remembered.

Cha

Bring Out the Trees in the Heart

The unseen has now been seen

Bring out the nets braided with theory

Theories made of thread

Threads made of air

Bring out the threads made of air

One filament of ornamental air encoded within a supposed entity

Transmitting thirst

Hail the laws of Cyrus!

A juror concealed within valves of light

Whistles alarm sound-song sharp as a needle

Revealed

In mound-like hills

A supposed entity carries forward the encoded cylindrical laws of Cyrus

The unseen has now been seen – running upon a wall

Place the ladder beside a wall

Bring out the trees in the heart 

Bring out the heart in the psyche

Forgotten in the garden light-years away

Bring out the ladders built of light-years

One filament of ornamental air encoded within a supposed entity

Transmitting hunger

Hail the laws of Cyrus!

Laws made of ladders reach into star-cycles

A juror concealed within valves of light

Whistles alarm sound-song sharp as a needle

Revealing

A supposed entity carries forward the encoded cylindrical laws of Cyrus

The unseen has now been seen – moving its lips

On TV – remember TV?

One filament of ornamental air encoded within a supposed entity

Transmitting

The unseen remember justice

Ten by ten the innocent fall

In a garden light-years away

A supposed entity

Chanting

Bring out the nets braided with theory

And theories built of ladders

Hail the laws of Cyrus!

A juror concealed within valves of light

Whistles alarm

Within a mound-like hill

Law encodes a star-cycle of justice

One by one the guilty await

A supposed entity

Carries forward the encoded cylindrical laws of Cyrus

Chanting

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I juxtaposed stills from the film Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) with stills from a televised theatrical production of Twelve Angry Men (1954). I used the copyrighted images under fair play provisions for educational or commentary (& non-profit) purposes.