poemimage

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

Tag: Identity

August 20, 2017

Drawing 14 assumes new form

After I broke (shattered!) my ankle I began drawing for long periods in bed.

I used a Sharpie marker on lined paper and numbered the drawings.

Sometimes I titled the drawings and indicated how I might use them, a linocut or a painting.

Drawing 14 broke free of its mooring and reappeared after traveling through several rooms.

I recreated Drawing 14 using digital tools.

1 + 4 = 5. Some people say 5 is a dynamic number of change. An indicator of flux, of positive movement,

& some things never reappear & you realize there might be something else, down in the roots, you need to want more.

And you experience both mystery and loss

while wearing wings and antlers.

Wherever those came from.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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December 21, 2013

Where You Are by Eileen Sheehan

solstice december copy

garden god

 You lie down in whatever bed

you lie down in, the pillow accepting

the weight of your head, the mattress

receiving your body like a longed-for guest.

You move in your sleep and the sheets

react to your turnings, the blankets adjust,

shaping themselves to your outline. The air

in the room keeps time with your breathing,

accepts being displaced while I circle the walls

of the city you dream. My papers

are worn, frayed at the edges; that picture

I have of myself, clouding-over and spotted

with rain: my face is dissolving before me. The night

holds you in sleep, you are stilled by its comforts;

by the fabrics absorbing the sweat you expel.

My cries go unheeded as I stand at the gate

pleading admittance. There is no one to turn to

as you shed a layer of your skin while you lie there,

dead to the world; my one reliable witness.

this green tree copy Read the rest of this entry »

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April 1, 2013

« Goutte À Goutte », Plein verre, 1940 (May) by Pierre Reverdy, Translated by Pierre L’Abbé, 2011.

quartet

Drop by drop

drama

The habit of loving
The sap of fatigue

intersection

tritone

The torrents of sleep
In the pit of nefarious plans

shadowed a
If I had to give over the secret of the past
I would no longer fear the heaviness of blood

intersec tion orange
Being alone
Sharpens revelations on the edges of the wind

white cracks copy
Weak and ugly
I sleep in gutters

new twin
Doubled, exposed to the weather
To the barbs of fate
To the blows of fortune

celtic animal
The bubbles of dark days burst in my hands
Life trembles irresolute on the edge of each sheet

mirrored

wash
Along the borders of the morning

wash
I no longer take a turn

wash

queen

The forms of hatred
Cheeks bulging with fire
These starving ovens

glassed

her wall

When love enlightened breathes on bitterness

a garish village
And dances on the dream-rope of nothingness

splash 3

face subtle

Pierre L’Abbé is a translator, a publisher, and the author of poetry and short story collections. He lives in Toronto.

final one

new carnival

When I began generating images for this Reverdy poem my focus was ‘self’ seeing ‘self.’ I wondered also if the poem was historical. I pictured incidents from World War Two. Or maybe psychological? The poem seemed to present an existentialism assuaged with the balm of cathartic love. And then because, coincidentally, I assembled this page on Easter Sunday, I considered (perhaps outlandishly) this being a dialogue between Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene. In two voices. An end to their metaphysical, sexual, emotional love. Hmm…perhaps too literal. I wasn’t sure where metaphor began and personal voice ended. This began a chain of associations concerning language, representation, authenticity, double-identity, etc… and I was back at the idea of ‘self’ (whatever that is) seeing ‘self.’ You know that feeling you have when you look in a mirror? You know it’s you but you’re not quite sure who ‘you’ is. You see yourself experiencing an image of your self. So, as you can see, the poem presented a host of interpretive challenges. Pierre L’Abbe would know far more than me about this poem’s purpose. As always, I went with my intuitive response in creating images. In this case a face and a figure interact while constantly transforming.

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