I found myself ebbing
away, and so I fasted.
When my commitment to
life renewed itself, I broke
my fast.
If you've ever been dead and come back to life,
been hopeless and found a way to continue,
thrown yourself into nothingness to find meaning.
An elusive tune,
slender wash of light,
bare opening in the wall,
a sliver, crescent through which.
Or what's a moment but a casting through.
If you've been too tired to get up and then you get up.
Filled with silent despair and then the will to.
Nothing's even, that's the problem. Many impermanent states.
All taking turns or colliding. Interpenetrating or scattering.
Flowing or stuck. Constraining or freeing.
I like to have clean thoughts because then I can live in my mind.
Sometimes the dust, anger, grime.
Throw what's scathing out.
I feel your bright and beautiful presence
even if you feel like you've disappeared into nothing.
The edges of the sky hang like an aurora borealis of silk.
The trompe l'oeil of the moment. Discreet packets of time.
If you didn't tell me I was going to die, I wouldn't believe it.
And then the scaffolding crashed, blocks fell apart,
what resisted melted, and it was time to resurrect.
Passing beyond memory into. Or the rising.
©Brenda Clews
Good Friday, 2006
----------------
photographic path: a photo I took of sheer fabric over light, cropped, layered on itself, rotated, made somewhat transparent; then I may have used a marque tool to crop the uppermost layer to better reveal the brocade ribbon below, or was that one of the trajectories I didn't use; various marque tools to crop the right & left edges of the uppermost layer on right angles; the stamp tool to fill in a line that was left over from who knows what process; the burn tool to darken the upper and bottom right corners for visual balance. A collage I composed after writing the poem...
This is a photopoem: I've digitally embedded the poem in the image along with copyright information.
glad that i stumbled upon this space.
ReplyDeletetouched some chords of my heart.
stay tuned. live long.
aj
Lovely, Brenda. The photograph is beautiful all by itself, and the poem -- well, it's exactly to my taste, what more can any reader say than that? Terse, hard-hitting truths seen from unusual new angles. Fragments aimed right at the soul. It shows, among other things, how many arrows you've got in your quiver. PS: Stylistically it reminds me of the work of two favorite poets of mine, Jack Gilbert and Linda Gregg, who used to be married to each other.
ReplyDeleteWonderful! Clarity, light, at interesting angles, as Richard said. In both photograph and poem.
ReplyDeleteSo glad you are rising again.
Zorba, welcome... I left a comment at your site.
ReplyDeleteRichard, when you come by and leave one of your gracious comments I take it as a high compliment- Too many lows of late, but they've lifted I hope... :)
MB, yes, glad to be rising...
these things are never gone. they hide, they dematerialize sometimes. they haunt. they are stuck in places from which escape might be difficult, but, no, I have to trust they are not lost.
ReplyDeleteAn elusive tune,
slender wash of light,
bare opening in the wall,
a sliver, crescent through which
beautiful, and magnificent art...
I have missed both too long.
thenarrator, it's good to have you back too. xo
ReplyDeleteStunning--both the photograph and the poem. Like Richard, I thought of Jack Gilbert. Like him, this poem is both direct and original at once. (Never knew he was married to Linda Gregg though.)
ReplyDeleteJ'aime beaucoup cette lumière vue à travers ces tissus !
ReplyDeleteUn splendide tableau abstrait !
I am delighted with your reading, the enthusiastic, infectious quality of your voice, and the crystal clear approach to the interpretation of your fine poetry. (I also very much appreciate the art work)
ReplyDeleteI'll be reading and listening to more on this blog, you may be sure. I wish I knew how to record my poetry on the blog as you have done. Perhaps I would get more reaction to it.
If you want to visit mine (http://synchrospoeticthoughts.blogspot.com) you are invited. Most of it contains the poetry I have already put on Gather, but there are some spiritual and political thoughts expressed there, too, if you decide to explore it.
At any rate, thank you for exposing me to another facet of your fine work, and I'm certainly going to look into more of it. Feel free to write me at: cembalo@comcast.net anytime. I'd be happy to hear from you.
-Dean