December 24, 2020

Ekphrastic Challenge, November 2020: Artist’s Choice

 

Photograph of a crane leaping at another crane behind its back

Image: “Leaping Crane” by Kim Sosin. “Crane Possibly Walking on Water” was written by Erin Newton Wells for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, November 2020, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.

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Erin Newton Wells

CRANE POSSIBLY WALKING ON WATER

The sky sank, again. It turned the water heavy, slow
going for a narrow leg, nothing but bone. Wings

once seemed possible but hidden now, no
way to bloom as a plunder of feathers, wings

to catch light, explode and powerfully row
upward. Nothing spoke, so sky sank, again. Wings

became merely what someone heard, a cool flow
of sails, banners, wind, freedom, such wings

as those who dream once rode beneath so
easily as shadow skims the water. Such wings

rise, their smooth primordial glide below
a seam of sky to open it, if any remembered, wings

unraveling in blue to blend with air and know
no boundary. No one moved much anymore. Wings

became a breath. Someone thought, once, to show
how it was, a buoyancy of wings,

or name what you will. Hope, maybe, or the low
whistle in dreams as they ascend. Such wings.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
November 2020, Artist’s Choice

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Comment from the artist, Kim Sosin: “Reading this poem, I picture a sunset, a sky darkening to navy, and I hear thousands of wings beating and loud calls filling the sky. Anyone who has seen this phenomenon can hear the Sandhill Cranes’ trumpeting as they circle and settle in the shallow river in safety for the night, their wings folded at rest, but filled with potential. The birds dream of freedom from earthly boundaries and of buoyant flight; they dream of catching the thermals tomorrow, just as they did in primordial days, as the Sandhill cranes have been doing for 2.5 million years according to the fossil record. As morning light dances up the river, the cranes begin a hopeful dance. Will you be mine? Will you travel onward with me on our magnificent wings? Such wings.”

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November 26, 2020

Ekphrastic Challenge, October 2020: Editor’s Choice

 

Black and white photograph of a cairn of smooth stones with a bird in the background

Image: “Dream Spirit” by Christopher Whitney. “Four Loaves of Stone, Ascending” was written by Joel Vega for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, October 2020, and selected as the Editor’s Choice.

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Joel Vega

FOUR LOAVES OF STONE, ASCENDING

Even Noah, stepping out
of the Ark, the world stretching
out from his feet in a mighty
display of infinite water—
even he, picking up
the first four loaves of stone,
his faith shaken, querying:
What shred of cloth
can wrap this naked
body? What terror
or bliss will rise
from the receding
tides? But the new
earth speaks
a new language.
Come here, it says,
Come here, then.
Gather beneath a sky
bereft of stars.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
October 2020, Editor’s Choice

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Comment from the editor, Timothy Green: “As much as possible, I try to choose a poem each month that’s different from the artist’s choice, so that this series can show the breadth of human imagination. It worked out well this time, as the two poems couldn’t be more different in length, style, and interpretation. I loved the timeless beauty of Joel Vega’s response, and the haunting ambiguity of those last few lines. The title alone could be a poem, and you’d be hard pressed to find a phrase more pleasurable to speak than ‘loaves of stone.’ I found myself returning just to say that phrase aloud again.”

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November 19, 2020

Ekphrastic Challenge, October 2020: Artist’s Choice

 

Black and white photograph of a cairn of smooth stones with a bird in the background

Image: “Dream Spirit” by Christopher Whitney. “One for Sorrow” was written by Carmel Buckingham for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, October 2020, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.

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Carmel Buckingham

ONE FOR SORROW

A crow once gifted me
pine needles tucked into a paperclip.
She left it on my windowsill, right beside
the birdfeeder. I think about love languages,
about how long it’s been since I’ve felt
the smooth warmth of another’s skin,
firm muscle wrapped around me,
heavy and solid and safe.

Did you know crows can recognize faces?
She definitely knows me, she lets me get close,
she’s brought me more gifts—a Stella Artois
bottle cap, a glittering earring, a screw head,
and a few shiny pebbles.
I stack them inside, right by the window,
so she can see that I’ve kept every one.
I wonder if she’d recognize me with a smile,
she’s never seen me like that.

Crows stay faithful to their partners
until one of them dies. I only ever see her
on her own. I wonder if she hasn’t found
her partner yet, or if she is mourning
after a lover now lost.

Crows recognize voices too, so I sing to her
when she visits. Sometimes I crack open
a pomegranate and she pecks at the arils
right in front of me. I wonder if she sees
the stones behind my window; I wonder if
she knows she’s the reason I’m still here.

She always flies away, wings black as midnight,
sails into the sky. I wonder what it is about
people like me, who love spiders and crows,
who let dandelions conquer the garden, who
keep the one-eyed teddy bear, and sand the
shattered glass.

I am a defender of all the other broken things,
unwanted things, forgotten things,
things the world finds monstrous, worthless,
things that I find kindred. She deserves
her hazelnuts, to hop from foot to foot, she
deserves to exist.

And when she brings me another stone,
gray with shimmering specs of silver,
and sets it outside of my window,
I think, maybe I deserve that too.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
October 2020, Artist’s Choice

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Comment from the artist, Christopher Whitney: “As I read and re-read the poems, this one kept coming back to me, stayed on top of the pile. I think of the day I made the photo, on a beach near Monterrey with two other photographer friends, each looking for his own shot the way the poets each looked for their way to respond to my image. In ‘One for Sorrow,’ the poet captured imagery the way I tried to do in my photo. There is a personification to the bird that brings me into the narrator’s story, lets me sit with him/her at that window, looking out and trying to see a glimpse of myself in the other, of peering into nature to answer life’s questions and then realizing the answers are in the simplest things, like the bird’s gifts. I enjoyed the flow of the poem, each stanza a gift to the whole, giving life to the crow as the crow gives life to the narrator.”

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October 29, 2020

Ekphrastic Challenge, September 2020: Editor’s Choice

 

Painting women lounging and swimming in a pool in the head of a bluish figure

Image: “Pool Head” by Pat Singer. “In the Dream-Pool” was written by Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, September 2020, and selected as the Editor’s Choice.

[download: PDF / JPG]

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Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco

IN THE DREAM-POOL

All summer long,
the pool was closed,
and I swam
continents,
asleep.

Glimpses of aqua
through a fence.

A neighbor’s
swimsuit.

Mouthwash blue.

The thing with dream-pools is
you never get to swim.

The thing with dream-pools is
they all mean something else.

When summer ended, the need passed
like an old pet, drifting
somewhere, like the wildfire smoke, or souls.

I thought of towels I’d sewed my name on,
how they one time seemed important.

In a dream-pool, I am floating,
silent blue in sheets around me.

In a dream-pool I am safe,
cleansed of whatever

came in with me,
my skin tight.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
September 2020, Editor’s Choice

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Comment from the Editor, Timothy Green: “Interestingly, both this poem and the artist’s choice throb with the losses of the pandemic while looking through a fence that isn’t in the painting. In this case, the closing of the summer pool becomes a kind of obsession, haunting in its absence, as so many things are. There are so many memorable lines here: ‘The thing with dream-pools is / you never get to swim.’ That will stick with me.”

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October 22, 2020

Ekphrastic Challenge, September 2020: Artist’s Choice

 

Painting women lounging and swimming in a pool in the head of a bluish figure

Image: “Pool Head” by Pat Singer. “Visiting the Gardens at DePugh Nursing Center, Winter Park, Florida” was written by Vivian Shipley for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, September 2020, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.

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Vivian Shipley

VISITING THE GARDENS AT DEPUGH NURSING CENTER, WINTER PARK, FLORIDA

As if I am in a zoo, I peer through
bars of the black iron fence.
Restricted by the coronavirus
to outdoor visits, I’m unable
to touch my sister parked
in her wheelchair by the aide.
Under a trellis, vines seem
to yearn as I do to touch her hair.
Azure blue flowers, centered
in purple, rest near her face,
eyes closed, lips flatlining.
I whisper Mary Oliver’s lines,

I thought the earth remembered me,
she took me back so tenderly,
arranging her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds.

Someone has smeared on fire engine
red lipstick as if my sister might flirt
again, arm on a jukebox, index finger
running down a man’s tie.

Like a live beetle savaged
by fire ants swarming its cranium,
a brain tumor eats from inside out
until Mary Alice, who cannot
escape her executioner, will die.

I know the tumor in her skull is like
an ember, burning until any memory
of me in her lobes has been turned
to white ash. But if I could remove
the top of her head like the surgeon
had done to debulk the tumor, I’d like
to believe I’d find our pool in Kentucky
with us, the three sisters in tank suits.
Mary is floating on her back in yellow.
I sit on the edge in blue daring only
to dangle my feet in the water.
My youngest sister, naturally in red,
dives from the high board.

As a child, Mary Alice was the good girl,
Pointed her toes in ballet class, strung
glass beads on elastic bracelets in Methodist
church camp to help others find salvation:
white, the purity of Mary, red, the blood
Jesus shed, even for me. To give me faith,
she explained good and evil are like sun
and rain. God sends rainbows to make
sense of them together. I’d shoot back,
I didn’t need the world to have meaning,
had no ache to be saved or have afterlife.
Now, to be with her again, I do.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
September 2020, Artist’s Choice

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Comment from the artist, Pat Singer: “The way this poem unfolds feels very real and unexpected. I enjoy the surprising and unpredictable way that the sister’s tumor introduces the visual of the pool inside the mind. The writer captured the grim, desolate reality of visiting someone who is unable to care for themselves anymore. Visiting someone who’s a husk of what they once were is difficult, sobering, and emotional. The words the writer uses conveys these feelings with raw power and an authentic voice. The visual cues tie in well with the art literally, but also manages to expand the meaningfulness into something much more robust and with more depth than what is on the surf.”

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September 24, 2020

Ekphrastic Challenge, August 2020: Editor’s Choice

 

Painting of armless Roman statue and a blue bowl on a pedestal

Image: “Blue Bowl” by Liz Magee. “A Duty to Look Beautiful” was written by Patty Holloway for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, August 2020, and selected as the Editor’s Choice.

[download: PDF / JPG]

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Patty Holloway

A DUTY TO LOOK BEAUTIFUL

Yes, armless is harmless. That’s how we want
our women to be. No attachments, free
from holding a job or babies they’ll flaunt,
free for only this life of luxury.
They’re really quite bright; they soon come to know
their only duty’s to look beautiful.
We take care of everything they need. So
they have no stress. We keep them moveable—
we put them in their place, and there they stay.
This one’s very fond of the blue glass bowl:
two vessels cracked though not in the same way,
but both denied the prize they long to hold:
Sweet water slips away from the basin.
No hand to hold for the lovely maiden.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
August 2020, Editor’s Choice

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Comment from the editor, Timothy Green: “Everyone loves a sonnet, apparently, and this is another great example of why. So much is packed into these fourteen lines, which arc perfectly into the surety of the final couplet. One of the main tasks of poetry—and all art, more generally—is to change the way you look at the world. After reading this piece of modern mythology, I’ll never look at ancient statues the same again.”

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September 17, 2020

Ekphrastic Challenge, August 2020: Artist’s Choice

 

Painting of armless Roman statue and a blue bowl on a pedestal

Image: “Blue Bowl” by Liz Magee. “Mantra” was written by Michael Harty for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, August 2020, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.

[download: PDF / JPG]

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Michael Harty

MANTRA

for Leonard Cohen, 1934–2016

A crack in everything, he told us—that’s
how light gets in. And yes, he always knew
that this included him. The sharps and flats
of life—he savored them and suffered through
them, shaped them to an art that calls the name
of every listener. The light that found
his inner world was like a healing flame:
revealing, not destroying, always bound
to show his truth. Lost loves, mistakes, regrets,
despair and fear, but hope as well, and praise,
and generosity, and tenderness—
all deeply shared, with ordinary grace.
A cracked bowl gathers light, a cracked bell rings,
and even facing night, a cracked voice sings.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
August 2020, Artist’s Choice

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Comment from the artist, Liz Magee: “This is the poem that I would like to have written, and the more I read it the better it sounds. I am biased toward short, direct poems that I do not have to work too hard to understand and which yet manage to set up a painting in themselves. If I did not know Leonard Cohen, I would know him from this poem. It suits the sonnet form so well, the rhymes are not intrusive, and the final couplet gave me a bit of a shiver! There were poems that looked more closely at the painting, but I liked the focusing on the small detail of the crack in the bowl and giving it a whole new meaning that I did not intend.”

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