poemimage

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

Tag: empathy

The light is warm. The light is water.

Glass continues the journey of light –
flooding the walls & flooding the floors
with colour as light as air.

I am an apprentice.

Today my wedding day.

My master creates a window for the Magi.

I invite my master to the festivities.

After bidding my guests ado

I take my bride to the wedding bed.

The Magi (flooding light) flood my master’s studio.

The light is warm. The light is water.

Tonight I am the flood.

Might I ask of you –

Might you remember –

this apprentice,

on his wedding day

and say,

The light is warm.

The light is water.

Medieval marriage by Giovannino De’ Grassi

St-Gatien’s Cathedral, Indre-et-Loire, France (1300)

 

Starry, Starry Snow

starry, starry, snow

I saw Vincent walking down my street.

He said, ‘I’m cold.’

I said, ‘You’re not alone.’

He said, ‘Finally.’

starry starry snow & vincent
Phone camera: Toronto street

NASA space image

 Vincent Van Gogh: ‘Self-Portrait with Straw Hat’

Paris: Summer, 1887

Oil on Canvas

The Detroit Institue of Arts

vincent 3

You Were Brave in that Holy War by Hafiz

too

You have done well In the contest of madness.

bath

You were brave in that holy war.

blue on blue

You have all the honorable wounds Of one who has tried to find love Where the Beautiful Bird Does not drink.

dancer

May I speak to you Like we are close And locked away together? Once I found a stray kitten And I used to soak my fingers In warm milk;

f2

It came to think I was five mothers On one hand.

garden

Wayfarer, Why not rest your tired body? Lean back and close your eyes.

shadow

Come morning I will kneel by your side and feed you. I will so gently Spread open your mouth And let you taste something of my Sacred mind and life.

feather

Surely There is something wrong With your ideas of God

new

O, surely there is something wrong With your ideas of God

shadow

If you think Our Beloved would not be so Tender.

scratched

– The Gift: Poems by Hafiz the great Sufi Master

translated by Daniel Ladinsky

trial and error

The smiling image of Jacqueline Kennedy in Dallas contrasting with the shock and horror she soon experienced has haunted me since my youth. Is it enough to say this Hafiz poem is about coming to terms with grief in a metaphysical context? I do not claim to be an expert on such things but with this project I attempt to address grief. I created digital variations of a coloured – pencil drawing of Mrs. Kennedy in Dallas, November 22, 1963. I used seven of these drawings for a collage series, including drawing & painting, on handmade Japanese paper for a 2003 exhibition commemorating the 40th anniversary of JFK’s death. The poetry video My Story Is Not My Own (below) continues the theme:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17LZ1XqubyU

1pg

OPEN STUDIO AT THE ARTISTS COLONY by Nancy Kline

NK 2

VCCA, February 14, 2009

NK4

The visual artist in the studio next door is knitting stainless steel and silk. She’s disabused now, she makes prints of clothes unraveling. A dark skein stained. She’s knitting up the sleeve of care.

NK 3

Electric ukelele down the hall! A white piano plays itself (we all do, here). It has no hands. The trombone-player has composed a piece starring an interstellar Po’ Boy. He slides us along. He sings us a valentine.

newnksunset

 I’m writing flash about my mother, while the writer on the other side of this white wall knits her long narrative of the Great Silk Road.  

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Abattoir by Colin Carberry

Seer h

square

seer ing Read the rest of this entry »

I Have a Dream by Martin Luther King Jr.

MLK 1 Read the rest of this entry »