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

Tag: sound




Lough Ree by Colin Carberry




blu flame

A trout flares at dusk,
silver scales
in the heron’s ears.

blueish a

new blue

Colin Carberry is an Irish-Canadian poet and translator and the director of the Linares International Literary Festival (Mexico).


I am struck, reading this haiku, by the heron hearing silver scales. I imagine sunset splashing chaotically on thin, reflective surfaces and the heron’s acute sensors turning and tuning. I remember summers (it seems long ago) driving cross-country, through the night, listening to the radio. Car radios were manually operated. With your free hand you would find the spot where there was no static, bringing in the station clearly. Adjusting the dial frequently to receive the perfect reception. Ambient static would slowly creep back in and you would fine tune again listening carefully. Though, unlike the heron, your aim was enjoyment not survival. Surely our ancestors knew the life and sounds of water, within and without, like a heron. The poet, crafting this poem, brings us to the edge of our deepest memories.

constance by Joanne Arnott

constance new

when i was pregnant, she told me

reaching back more than twenty years

for the memory

constance f

constance k

i put sunflower seeds on my belly

i used to read aloud to my son

so he could hear our bones

constance j

i love our voices, she said

constance b

chickadee & sparrow flutter down

lured by the seeds and undisturbed

by our voices


i put your hand on my belly

i invite you to read this aloud

i want to listen to our bones


& to love our voices, for a little while


final hand

Joanne Arnott is a Metis poet living on Canada’s west coast.