Gallery 2

Gallery 2, by Mary Stebbins Taitt. Click image to view larger. This is my second attempt to make a gallery. The first attempt is at Unbearable Darkness. The third version is at IMAGIK.

For Monday Artday.

Eating the Wallpaper, Shapes Abstract 63

Eating the Wallpaper, Shapes Abstract 63, by Mary Stebbins. Click image to view larger. 

Drink (again)

Drink

 

Falling rain and thunder of cataract—dripping shadows

blue from the depths of the gorge, you appear beside me.  Down

of thistles, wet leaves and grass slip over us, chiffon and silk. 

We taste ribbons of water.  The cracked light of first words

 

shines on your tongue.  Our fingers, whole arms, dip

through transparent layers, solid gone liquid, everything flowing,
shining. Luminous, translucent, you shimmer in and out of focus.  See

how you mirror me.  I believe we are twins.  Though you

 

are new, I imagine we will marry.  I will be the riverbed

and you the river.  Together, the falls.  Singing.  I hold this cup

of longing toward you, overflowing, and you lean toward me

to drink.  Light falls and falls from the sky.

 

Mary Stebbins

For Keith

I have trouble posting poetry to the blog!  It doesn't format right and does weird things.  And then I can never leave well-enough alone, I always need to tinker.

--
I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats
Mary

Shapes Abstract 61D

Shapes Abstract 61D, by Mary Stebbins. Click image to view larger. 

Drink (Another Love Poem)

Reimagining our meeting:

Drink

 

Falling rain and the thunder of cataract—dripping shadows

blue from the depths of the gorge, you appear beside me.  Down

of thistles, wet leaves and grass slip over us, chiffon and silk. 

We taste ribbons of water.  The cracked light of first words

 

shines on your tongue.  Our fingers, whole arms, dip

through transparent layers, solid gone liquid, everything flowing, shining. Luminous, translucent, you shimmer in and out of focus.  See

how you mirror me.  I believe we are twins.  Though you

 

are new, I imagine we will marry.  I will be the riverbed

and you the river.  I hold this cup of longing

Toward you, overflowing, and you lean toward me to drink.

Light falls and falls from the sky.

 

 

Mary Stebbins

For Keith

060606 a varient on Take Two

Shapes Abstract 61C

Shapes Abstract 61C, by Mary Stebbins, click image to view larger. 

Catching Up

I am going to read this poem at my wedding Saturday, as a sign of what will hopefully be ending after we marry.  I thought it might mean something to you, as well.

Catching Up

 

 

Soon, we will speak,

touching

each other

 

less

than the wide, dark, sun-edged wings of antiopas[i]

shift their willow catkins,

(which is not at all), 

less

than the movement of the heavy curtains,

not stirred by your sleeping child's breath,

less

than my pen touches

waiting stationery

with anticipated words

for you.

 

For twenty-three hours

our lives empty

of each other

and then with these words

we try to pour

back what was lost.

 

This is the day I saw foam flower

blooming on the hummocks

in the seven-acre swamp.  Leaves opened,

chartreuse and new.  The patter of raindrops

was steady, falling into my hair, over

my arms, filling my shoes. 

Tonight I will tell you of fields

puddled with rain, how the trees

moved through the pools

as if marching underwater,

restless, trembling with every step.

 

And you will tell me something,

something I have missed,

and didn't share with you,

something I will have to imagine

and release.

 

We will say Hug

but our bodies won't touch

and we will say kiss

but our lips won't meet.

 

Then, all night long,

we will walk, and keep walking,

through dreams,

through stars, turning,

one step, one night closer

to each other, as the moon,

waxing and waning at our windows,

transits

our separate beds.

 

 

 

 

 

Mary Stebbins

For Keith

060608a, 060606c

 

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[i] Antiopa is the species name of Morning Cloak (Mourning Cloak)

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