I talk a lot about the intersection of poetry and sound. Many people are sick of hearing me discuss the topic, I'm sure. Given that, here I want to share an experiment I tried in which poetry and image intersect–not in the usual concrete poetry method which involves using the words themselves to create images, but by using a pre-existing visual work by one of my favorite artists as inspiration and complement. This will be the first in a series; not of poems associated with images, but of poems which, for one reason or another, will not be incorporated into my senior project compilation.


Triumph Over Mastery II, Mark Tansey

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Triumph Over Mastery II (in honor of Mark Tansey)

I dip my roller, white, ascend
the ladder to begin my work
attending to the task at hand.
A rippling muscled arm extends
much like my own as I erase
the arm, two hands, a head, a cloud
now nothing. Pure, unblemished white.
As I proceed I fail to see
my shadow, painted over like
the chapel ceiling I negate.

Music is worthless unless it can make a complete stranger break down and cry. -Imogen Heap, "The Dumbing Down of Love."

I was listening to music while washing the dishes tonight, as is my wont (an old habit acquired from the days when the dishwasher didn't work and Dad and I had to deal with the sink every night), and something happened. As Dar Williams sang "The Christians and the Pagans," I was moved to tears for reasons beyond me at the moment. I sank to my elbows, rinsed the suds off of my hands, and let go. I'd heard the song a number of times before, and I think what struck me this time was the timing. It's Advent now, and I've been sniping at all of the plastic wreaths and holiday sales and radio giveaway specials that get the 12 days of Christmas wrong (the 12 days of Christmas being the day of and the 11 days after, not the 12 days leading up to Christmas). On top of all that, I've been bogged down by schoolwork and a level of despair and cynicism regarding the world as a whole, what with riots in Greece, a global economic collapse, and general human selfishness and hate. In the midst of my funk, Dar gave me a picture of what ought to be this season, how we should behave. Regardless of religious belief or affiliation, this winter will be cold and lonely, metaphorically and literally, and if people can come together like in the song, "finding faith and common ground the best that they were able," then maybe, just maybe, there's some hope left for us all. And I am ever grateful that there are people like Dar out there coming up with beautiful reminders like this, because thanks to them will be even more who will hear and think twice about what it is they're celebrating this season and with whom and why.