Poem: Thomas Jones, A Wall in Naples, 1782

Painting by Thomas Jones, A Wall in Naples, 1782.

Thomas Jones
A Wall in Naples, 1782

One long white stocking
hangs from the balcony
swinging its toes, brushing
the tree tops, brushing against
the murderous beige wall.

Bricks birth through the stucco,
holes left from weather
and persistent birds
each perforating the sanctuary
of the stocking’s owner.

I wait for her to push through the door.
I wait for the window to throw its sash.
I wait for the sun to cease its brutal pummeling.

I wait for the stars
to give me a taste
of silk in my mouth,
silk tearing
against my teeth.

POETiCA REViEW: One Poem

I am happy to announce that I have a poem published in Issue 5 Spring of POETiCA REViEW called “Jackson Pollock/The Deep, 1953.” I am thrilled that there are folks out there willing to take a chance on ekphrastic poetry as it combines my love of poetry and art together.

There are some names of poets I recognize in there such as Jack Henry, Dan Provost, Mitchell Grabois, and Brian Rihlmann. I’m excited to read work by those that are new to me as well. Pop over and have a read.

The Big Windows Review: 2 Poems

There are those moments when you Google yourself that it pays off. In all of this pandemic time slip, I had forgotten the date when my poems “Kai” and “Frank Stella/Moultonboro II, 1974” were to be published. My deepest apologies to The Big Windows Review for dropping the ball on this one. I’m over a month late.

These poems appeared in their online magazine and will also be included in Issue 19, Spring 2020. Head over there and read some of the wonderful selections they have in Issue 18 which is currently available. Thanks for reading.

Poem: Giacomo Balla, Girl Running on a Balcony, 1912

Girl Running on a Balcony, Giacomo Balla, 1912

The clattering of shoes
on the balcony distracts me—
she runs by in a blur
of aquamarine and teal, 
her peach flesh poignant
and effervescent, the auburn
tendrils surge like a fire
in my brain.

She has moved me

                            disturbed me

                        unnerved me

                      released me.

The mind loops this girl
in frantic flip book motion.
It is a nightmare
that will never find
it’s undoing.

Poem: Morris Louis, Gamma Epsilon, 1960

Morris Louis, Gamma Epsilon, 1960

When I was a young girl I remember my mother being an artist. She carried a bag filled with drawing pads, pencils, and charcoal. She’d sketch trees and wildlife, sometimes children. It amazed me to watch an image come to life from the pencil in her hand. My love of art started here, much like my love of poetry started with my father. My appetite for reading birthed among the stacks of books that lined the walls of my grandmother’s apartment. It is good to know the origins of your passions. Sometimes you have to peel all the dirty layers back of the things that happened after, to find these gleaming jewels.

Years ago I started writing poems about pieces of art that moved me. I like the idea that I was somehow collaborating with these talented, famous artists. I still write these types of poems and make a point to go to an art museum in every town or city I visit that has one. Art and writing are a person’s invisible emotions made solid. They are captured in forms created from a unique perspective.

My hope with Ekphrastic poetry is inspire you to look at art in a different way. Capture how your body and mind feels when you look at a piece someone poured their soul into. Please enjoy Morris Louis.

Morris Louis
Gamma Epsilon, 1960

My flesh bleeds
your filthy pigments
in jagged runnels
where the knife,
your tongue,
has carved me.

You leave clean
your favorite place,
whole and unblemished—
the place your lips
like to linger, the place
our secrets absorb
through osmosis
when you stay too long.

I bleed you.
I embody you.
I am the near beginning
and the not so end
of you.