poemimage

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

Tag: dreams

I sent five ink drawings to a poet.

For the cover of her book with a theme – dreams, running throughout the powerful, prophetic poems.

I selected the drawings from two sketchbooks filling simultaneously, slowly, sometimes on the subway, sometimes in a cafe.

I work in these sketchbooks, as well as accordion sketchbooks, on and off, sometimes obsessively & intricately,  sometimes less so.

I love ink drawing and the history of ink drawings – the contrast of line, design. To be honest I don’t want to do ink drawings, it’s inescapable & too pleasurable. An addiction of sorts.

My early heroes were Aubrey Beardsley and later Jan Toorop.

Today I find myself mesmerized by the line of Pict or Runic art and the heavier B&W contrasts in lino & woodcuts.

I have a book from the early 1900s & the author is railing against modernity in ink drawings.

He’s right about traditional, technical skill but quite misses the point.

The quest to return to what was lost in our origins is not determined by accuracy in depiction.

But rather seeing the spirit of the thing.

Or what we imagine is the spirit of the thing.

 

 

The Loves of Sochi

spectre2

Lovers 

newfoundland

Swept up by a spark

new lamp a

A kiss after dark

new lamp brussian woodcut

Beneath a bridge

taste flower

Shadows

Whispering

Soon 

soonothe ice princess

The future cascading

town without pity

Tarkovsky studies music and Arabic

gDream Lovesoono

Soon

Ivan

He will create

Ivan’s Childhood

oval 16a

Winning top prize at the Venice Film Festival

bright detail 1

“Tarkovsky… 

captures life as a reflection,

life as a dream.” 

– Ingmar Bergman

pOur Window

On the bridges of Sochi

oval 18

Beneath starlight

soono

Hand in hand

under stand

Lovers

Cascading

bright detail 2

A scene from Tarkovsky’s film Stalker:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNiVFCWMrqI

lantern


Adamant on the Edge of Dreams by Lisa Marguerite Mora

One pearl

beneath all

I don’t know what God is doing.

He sears me with the palm of his hand,

hollows me out with light

so that I can’t feel my bones anymore.

And my grief—

not that gut wrenching stuff,

is just water that flows and flows, flows unimpeded now—

I am open,

undammed and not drowning,

not fighting for my life.

duo two

Why is it I can see your face so clearly?

shining artifact2

wire light

I am floating (90% water, they say),

my ribcage, fluid, caging and releasing.

I have become amphibian.

I do not know whether to walk or swim.

I miss the bones

of the earth, dark stones, polished pain hard beneath my feet.

Gravel and grit I need.  Dust. Dirt.

Black and pungent.

river pebble light

muted

Please.

klee love

But there is just light split

over water

that spills

and your face

adamant on the edge of dreams.

receding

beneath all

And I wake

as if you were really  here.

night moon

Lisa Marguerite Mora is a prize winning poet and a freelance editor. She conducts creative writing workshops, and this year has completed a poetry manuscript and a first novel.

She lives in Los Angeles, California.

awake

I was influenced by the idea of an edge while depicting the figure – who fluctuates between pictorial and pictographic. The waking in the poem seems to be another edge, or a disappearing edge, delineating realms of  water & light, idea & memory, as well as the all encompassing natural, visceral world.

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Recurring Dream Theme, Reflecting Mimesis by Penn Kemp

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