Poetry Is. . . .

TODAY! I installed an interdisciplinary community poetry meets cyanotype bonanza project that I started last year at the Round Rock Public Library. If you’re local, I would love for you to check it out! What you see above in the cell phone photo is a preview of the first piece of it in progress – and yes I know there’s a mistake in it. This is art, y’all, not perfection!

Because I am aware of the fact that the final product isn’t the easiest thing to read, I’m sharing below a plain text version of the poem. Also below you can read about the project itself and (hopefully) give some love to the many people who participated in it.

POETRY IS. . . .

Imaginative leaps of profound wonder
dreaming
in the language of the heart.
Word whispers,
whispering from worlds unseen, 
revealed in a moment’s breath.


A gate opening
to a sky starred with flowers
and streets paved with moons,
making fluid sinuous shapes
of feelings with rectangular word blocks,
written from the heart.


Poetry is mindfulness,
words for all people,
bringing the unseen or unknown to life,
bringing what lies hidden in the heart into the light:
the language of the heart,
the melody of our lives,
and all that breaks language 
back down to its first tremblings
to speak as the soul.


A flicker of hope
a divine intervention
a soulful pursuit,
painting with words
beyond this lifetime,
stirring of spirit and love.


Words rise to sense
beauty in written form,
sometimes real and raw,
sometimes whimsical, 
but always magic:
life’s rich tapestry
tossed into the pond to make
a million ripples,
dreaming in imaginative leaps of profound wonder:
poetry is the language of the heart.

APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

These cyanotype prints and the poem they showcase are the result of a community project from 2021. I asked the wider world for a response to the prompt “Poetry is. . . ” in 10 words or less OR in haiku form, and once I had what seemed like “enough” replies I wove them together into a poem which I then turned into prints.

Here is a list of the contributors, along with links where you can see more of their work (please check them out!):

Jenine Bsharah Baines https://medium.com/@jeninebsharahbaines

Ralph Whitehead http://www.instagram.com/photonfixer

albatros http://www.instagram.com/albatros_aqua

Melanie Faith https://www.melaniedfaith.com/

C.I. Aki http://www.instagram.com/soul_lit_writer

Janaka Stagnaro https://www.janakasartandbooks.com/

Vinitha Dileep https://www.vinithadileep.com/

Sarah Palmer http://www.instagram.com/sgpalmer77

Ann Marye George https://www.anngeorgephotography.com/

Steven Tryon http://www.instagram.com/pearwoodphoto

James G Brennan https://medium.com/@jamesgbrennan

Joseph Lieungh https://www.steppingintothecanvas.com/

Kevin E Pittack Jr https://medium.com/@KevinPittack

John O’Neill https://medium.com/@johnoneill1947

WHAT IS A CYANOTYPE?

It’s a photographic printing process that uses natural salts and UV light to make an image that is naturally blue. That’s the nutshell version, but there’s so much more to know! My friends at Alternate Photography.com have some great info on it:

Cyanotype – the classic process

and you should know that World Cyanotype Day is the last Saturday of September each year.

https://www.worldcyanotypeday.com/

WHAT IS A HAIKU?

Poetry.org says: “Haiku is an ancient form of Japanese poetry often containing (in English) a total of 17 syllables shared between three lines that are arranged in a pattern of 5-7-5. The first line consists of 5 syllables, the second line 7, and the last line contains another 5 syllables.”

WHAT IS POETRY – to YOU?

Want to get involved? Let’s make a local version of this! Answer the prompt: “poetry is. . . . ” in 10 words or less OR in haiku form. Write it on a slip of paper and pop it in the box. Be sure to write down your first name so I can list the contributors, unless you’d prefer to remain anonymous which is ok too. When this exhibition ends at the end of April, I will turn it into a poem!

OH YEAH ONE MORE THING!

My friends at the Downtowner Gallery, right across the street from the library, have kindly let me put copies of both my cyanotype / poetry books (including the one I made with my daughter) on their local author for-sale shelf. Local friends, please stop by and take a look at all the great books on offer – not just the ones by yours truly!

Hatch Chilis

iPhone photograph printed with the Polaroid Lab

Heat portals
the bright flavor of the desert
green horns that lengthened
under the wide southwestern eye
they sail the turquoise sea
to land in this humble space

Lift the hatch: behold the fire within

Another poem from my Kitchen Collection! You can see more of them here on my photo website. Thank you for reading!

Wind

Galveston, TX | Holga camera and Kodak Tri-X | photo by author

The night the wind
came to life
there were headlights shining
down the beach
interrupting the darkness
in our thin cocoon

The walls bowed
swollen from the outside
pushing against the edges
of our dreams
tossing the mattress
like a boat on an angry sea
tent ribs cracked and groaned
ceiling rose and fell with
deep ragged breaths
energy swirled,
let out of its box
with a vengeance
turning canvas flaps
into wild fledgling wings
while sand danced
in every corner

The night the wind came to life
it shifted the foundations
right from under us
left with our sleep

It came like a thief
stuffing its pockets with
angry thrusting fists
pounded at the walls
get out
get out
get out
until we unzipped our fragile
hold on the shore
and fled into the maelstrom
into the headlights
that bore tunnels
through the sand-filled air

We watched as the car
drove by in slow motion

We washed in the dark
boiling waves

We found shelter in the strong
body of the truck
rocked into the brief
uneasy rest of surrender,
refugees from the fury
of the living wind

This poem was inspired by a true story, one eventful night on the beach. . . Thank you for reading!

Challah

iPhone photo, printed out via the Polaroid Lab

Layered knots
grains arranged
and linked together
bound by the hands
that tied them,
the heat
that made them One,
life and love
graceful slices on a plate
from rich, sustaining
loaves

Back in the summer of 2020 I got all fired up over the idea of writing a bunch of poems about food – and I DID write a bunch of them! I called them the Kitchen Collection, made photographs to go along with them, published a few, and then (as usual) moved on to the next thing and never went back to finish the project. Here’s the first one I published. . . . another is on the way tomorrow! Thank you for reading!

Ocean

Pinhole Polaroid photograph, South Padre Island National Seashore | photo by author

Washed up treasures
coated in a briny rind
even feathers bring it home
salty seaside perfume lingers
but mostly it’s the sand
that sticks with you
the constant scratch of the tide

Stand there all day
feet sinking, casting your words
toward the deep
hands waving offerings
to the gulls

The billowing roar
swallows it all

It’s the rhythm that remains
a drowning current
in your heart
long after you’ve returned
to the land

Who else loves the beach? I bought one of those poetry prompt books that has themes and word associations. I’ve been having fun playing around with it, trying to use the words provided in a way they might not have intended. Do you write the poem, or does the poem write itself?

June Rain

Rain over Cerro Pedernal, Abiquiu, New Mexico. Color 35mm Kodak film | photo by author

Grey lady walks
across the land
gathering
visits the coast, wades out to sea
lassos the waterspout
collecting raindrops

Scales the mountains
to pine needle music
harbors a cache of snow
scooping up the wind

Sweeps across the plains
raking armloads of sunshine
from the sky
comes away with
pocketfuls of heat

High steps over mesas
combing wild hair
with wands of ocotillo

Leaves dancing footprints
in the dust
gracious fingers painting the canyons

Shakes out her skirts
reviving the desert
with a downpour of promise
and renewal

Another from my Medium archive. Abiquiu is a little bit of an obsession of mine. I’ve written about it on my blog at least twice, and I have secret hopes of camping there again this summer. If you’d like to see more photographs of the area and me waxing ecstatic about the place, you can find that here.

Summer

35mm film photograph by author

Several states away
she reads
lines of Midsummer
It will be over before
she gets
to return home
She won’t tell me
how she really feels
so I don’t really know
and I, too, read
Midsummer
at home
in the dark

A poem from 2020, from my Medium archive. Funny how parenting shows up in so much of my creative work. . . . Thank you for reading!

Morning

Polaroid photograph by author

In the morning the doves’ lament
mixes with the hum of distant traffic
and lawnmowers
a conversation bouncing
between the trees
language following the network
of branches and shade, cover

There are hawks in this neighborhood
who also listen
to the deep breasted plea for love
that echoes from those
light hollow bones
while squirrels scratch
along their fence highway
to fuss and chatter
at the cat

From my Medium archive. The doves are back – now that it’s spring! Thank you for reading

Pelicans

South Padre Island National Seashore | Polaroid photo by author

Aloft on salt air
pelicans patrol the dunes,
punch holes in the waves

Watching the squadrons of pelicans soar in formation back and forth from the water to their nesting grounds all day was a treat that made even the collapse of our tent at 2am worthwhile! Anybody else have beach-camping mishaps both awesome and awful?? Thank you for reading!

Dad

Portrait of James Jasek, on Christmas Day 2018, made with a Graflex XL and Kodak Tri-X

He has always been there
Sailor tongued superhero
pockets full of dirty jokes
Each step of his was four
to little scrambling feet
My progress tethered to a pinky
Wait, Daddy

Powder kegs of emotion
I didn’t understand
where it came from, then
Punching holes in walls
His motor always running
never out of gas
Wait, Daddy

An industry of creation, exploration
The salvation of artifacts
in careful order
Patient with the process
of printing out light
drawing it from the darkness
Wait, Daddy

A love sometimes clumsily expressed
Expectations line a deep well
A big engine needs
a lot of maintenance
to keep the valves clean
to avoid a sudden stall
Wait, Daddy

He has always been there
A library of wisdom
close enough to call
bound with devotion
braving the distance
traversing zones of inspiration
Wait, Daddy

Ticking time bombs in the blood
I didn’t understand
the threat, then
Procedures can’t be panaceas
A locomotive interrupted
screaming wheels suddenly halt
Wait, Daddy
Dad, wait

This is another poem from my Medium archive. My dad had a massive stroke in 2020. It’s been a long road, and I am grateful to still have him here, but the truth is that he isn’t the same and I long for even just one solid minute with the man he used to be. I feel like that man is still trapped inside, dulled down by medication, scrambled up and confused by the mess his brain became; I wish I could reach in there and draw him out.

Thank you for reading!