falling & falling & falling & flying looks like falling





Yes, it seems I have interrupted doing my ‘to do’ list of what must be done. Yes, it seems I have started working on a new roll of Italian mid-weight paper using B&W media: both inks and gouache.


The main thing on my ‘to do’ list is the promotion (for purposes of exhibition or sale) of my 2022 work ‘Druidica’ (W35′ X H5′) also on a roll of mid-weight Italian paper. I have discussed this work in these pages: https://poemimage.com/2023/05/01/druidica-blue-deja-vu-cave-art-for-the-new-psyche/

This new B&W work takes me full circle, in a way, to when I was a young, self-taught, beginning artist working with a 01 fine-tip, refillable, Rapidograph pen. I laboured over intricate, intuitive work, often overnight – stippling and scratching away at the tiniest details – dark and surreal, somewhat psychedelic. I have expanded on how I work with B&W since (of course – one does expand). As the Grateful Dead sang, What a long strange trip it’s been…I sold offset prints of my ink drawings door to door to students in university residences and the infamous Rochdale College in Toronto. I still remember encounters from those long-ago days and still have many of those drawings.

It requires a bit of finesse to juggle ink & gouache side by side. You integrate two mediums, in one image, hoping the unique properties of each medium stand out. Each approaches the other: from here or there, keeping its own edge, and relationship with water.

Although I began (Whoosh!) without any plan, this work immediately communicated a specific theme. Two themes actually, I will play them off against each other, intertwining them. One is a ‘reverse metaphor’ of sorts – highlighting an impossiblity.

And the other depicts a figure in mythical folklore (who existed historically). I will abridge her mission, into my overall theme of juxtaposing polarities within a dense, intricate ‘jungle of the psyche.’ I will reassign her, respectfully… Once again the ancient juxtaposes against the ‘now.’

I have not corrected these iphone8 photos, taken under less than ideal conditions. I started to ‘adjust’ them in Photoshop and decided it was too time-consuming. Below we see an example of ‘drawing’ beside ‘painting.’

Just like with my ‘long blue painting’ I am working on the floor.


Often in my poemimage postings I post the first draft of a poem and spend days editing the material. However, what I am saying here is pretty much just ‘black and white’ facts (excuse the pun).





With ink I am both drawing and using a looser, painterly style, with wash, dripping, splattering, and expressiveness, which can be rather unforgiving. The gouache, although paint itself, is used more deliberately, adding depth, and solving problems.


Imagine a word in the yellow garden of the angel-faery

imagine the word mirabilia

mirabilia opens a curtain revealing a portal

angel-faery imagines me ~ I imagine mirabilia

not three not two not one not me disappearing

into a collapsed perimeter ~ I imagine an angel-faery

in the yellow garden you memorize mirabilia

three eyes aimed upon a stem three eyes upon a flower

memory cascading sounding the word mirabilia

in the yellow garden yellow-ish flowers whisper

in the luminous yellow garden angel-faery whispers

angel-faery touches my eyelid to the flower of her vision

in blue soil I ring like a bell

the keyhole shaped like an ancient symbol

the flower of mirabilia touches your blue soil

darkness like a keyhole beckons the echo of my vision

into the garden of the angel-faery memory cascading

mirabilia penetrates a keyhole beyond the collapsed perimeter

who what where when why
not three not two not one not you
disappearing within the collapsed perimeter.




ink brushwork, printmaking, digital collage s mccabe

I said that was a long time ago
I passed through that stage of being a long time ago

she said never mind you’re not who I’m looking for

a gold-tipped cane floats to sea
the needle in the handle fully loaded

the way the blanket is folded makes it look like a fish
she said never mind you’re not who I’m looking for

the tunnels beneath Funland flood
a gold-tipped cane surges to sea fully loaded

clouds notify
far-flung amphitheatres
sea-sponges sparkle
actors dip sponges
in limestone basins

sea-sponges float cloud-like
in quiet limestone basins
animals in the sky
nurse their young.

I gaze upon her at the walk-in clinic
only the two of us

she carries a brilliant white bowl made of clay
her name scratched into the white glaze

I said haven’t I met you before

she said a long time ago
in the library at Alexandria

I said why are you here
she said the people who started the fire
arrested me for reading Ovid

they sentenced me to life without honey
I said what is the bowl for she didn’t speak
I thought my conversation bothersome
& fell quiet

she said I read Ovid at the speed of light
I said like a honeybee
she said honeybees are slower than the speed of light

I snap my fingers like a jazz musician
You got it!
Honeybees are slower than the speed of light!
She said it might be the title of a brilliant love poem
about snails
I said two snails conceptually in love

she said you have to become healthy
I said what’s wrong with me
she said consider velocity
consider clay pots breathing in a cave
unfurling billowing sail-skins of air
unfurling billowing sail-skins of sunshine
the Dead Sea Scrolls
rolled and telepathic
secretly rescued in the fire

she winks one eye
I snap my fingers
she said Im not saying anything

a voice calls her number
two snails conceptually move about in the sunshine
wrapped in honey-coloured sail-skins billowing
unfurling honey-coloured sail-skins often
I am healthy often
the people who start the fire sentence her to honey found secretly on cliff-sides

I walk in circles upon the rounded peak of a vertical mound
chosen because it has no shade trees
I am healthy often eating honey
the brilliant afternoon drenched in honey-coloured telepathic heat
swirling like butter from the ancient cows
a deer pushes his nose into the brilliant white pages
I read Ovid listening to a brilliant buzzing sound.


This is the scene
where I follow the animal
into the forest.

This could be a bird.

A Cubist experiments
with wind
and Morse Code.




















Perhaps John Lennon never
considered old flat top a dolmen
never say never
I heard them say
in John Lennon world
You got to be free
forever
north south east west
never say never
I heard them say
beneath
beside
bequeathing dolmens
bequeathing breath
infinity
soul
north south east west
never say never
I heard them say.