Toronto | poemimage

Tag: Toronto

I was a dishwasher at the Executive Motor Hotel on King Street. The waitress with early 1960s-style hair, who was, maybe, 28, said, ‘If you want to come over after your shift I live nearby.’ Maggie May by Rod Stewart was playing on the radio. Seriously it was. At the time I was reading the writings of Antonin Artaud – founder of the Theatre of Cruelty. He claimed to own a walking stick stained with drops of the blood of Jesus Christ. I was trying to connect dots on a map that didn’t exist. I partook of the green, brown, and black herb. I partook of the artificial chariots. She was, maybe, 28.

from my book Meme-Noir (2019)

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June 15, 2022

Grey Concrete Sidewalk

I finished four deadlines yesterday I began in February when I finished my 33′ X 5′ painting on paper. Now I can do something about promoting this painting.

final section, Druidica, 2022, Steven McCabe, 33′ X 5′ – mixed media on paper

The amount of work I have done in the last year makes me feel half my age.

I remember when I used to work in schools.

I went for a walk after the rain. Garbage washes over the street in familiar colours.

I see a painting in the tiny art gallery window but when I photograph it clouds appear.

Is this a store security camera monitor? I would splice the discarded ‘evidence’ into an art film.

The Classic Candy Store sponsored a free giveaway of Moirs chocolate at the local (it has been resurrected) theatre in 1927. One day my shadow will vanish forever like a chocolate company.

I used a Sharpie marker in my sketchbook on the subway. The lady in white does not see me. I only see her in the photograph.

I only notice the Celtic manuscript in front of the drugstore parking lot when it begins to fade.

In the elevator at the medical clinic a Taj Mahal-like shape eats away at the cheap paneling.

Now I can do something about promoting this painting.

detail- Druidica, 2022, Steven McCabe, 33′ X 5′ – mixed media on paper

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February 10, 2021

GIF Experiments: 11 (A recent image conveys the past & the distance in-between)

A couple years ago, after decades and half the continent away, Howard visited. We walked around the bay down by the lake. His wife waited on a bench. They took me to an Indian restaurant for dinner. This GIF tells one story about our youthful friendship. I’m in the hat.

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December 30, 2013

Ice Storm in Toronto (with Carl Sandburg)

We could say the ice arrives leaping like a cat.

And the cat silently contemplates windows and branches

before moving on.

icy emission copy

My simple paraphrase reworking the short poem Fog. To address recent weather: silver & luminous with shattered trees & a million people without power. Upon us like a thief in the night.

Fog by Carl Sandburg: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174299

icy wind cat 2 copy