Table One: Joseph Suglia

Imagery richly fictious but poignantly reminiscent of simultaneous perceptions.

Table 41: A Novel by Joseph Suglia

You are on the beach, watching the swaying of the waves. The waves sweep across the steeps like a flock of stampeding sheep speeding over the steppes, the snaking waves hissing over the driftwood steeped in the sandy wrack.

A squadron of gulls lifts uneasily into the air and then dissipates against the grey sky. You look meaningly at the gulls. They hover, the flurry of gulls. The gulls lull heavily in the air, squealing their dull squeals.

You incline your head downward and stare at the inrushing waves, each one a hungry-mouthed sheep, coming toward you ravenously. The water is deliquescent twenty feet from the shore. Beyond the shoal the surface seems lacquered, solid, unbreachable, enameled, brackish, thick, as if it were a spreading mass of viscous aquatic jelly. From the shore you cannot fathom, through the spume lid, the pelagic fathoms. The lake’s lid is swarming with wavelets…

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Make a pretty petal card

Making a beautiful piece is very good for the artist & survivor. My SM friend Dea Fischer’s petal case is a place where you can put your darkest thoughts so that they turn into butterflies.

the starbook

One of the nicest things about preparing for a workshop like the “Mail Me Some Art” mail art workshop I will be conducting for artsPeak next Saturday is . . . well, . . . the preparation.  An undiluted excuse to play!  I wasn’t feeling too well on Friday, so I curled up in the afternoon with some materials and started to create some samples.  I liked this form so much, I thought I would give you a little taster of what you might get to do if you come along on June 18th.  And remember . . . . the workshop is FREE!

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The space where life used to be

the starbook



I have come back to my blog several times since my last post in May.  Customarily, I try to blog a couple of times a month every month.  Over this strange summer, I haven’t found myself able to do so.  Each time I came here, I spent time with a mental butterfly net, trying to capture something of all that was floating around inside me, and failing.    

I have certainly not been idle in these intervening months.  I have been travelling.  I have been teaching.  I have been spending long, unaccustomed periods alone.  And I have been working.  Indeed, I have been working.  None of it has been the pretty, appealing work I would ordinarily share on my Facebook page, or blog about here.  It has had nothing to do with articles or acquisitions or teaching.  All of it has been deep.  All of it has been drenched…

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* listing with blaise cendrars

Poems create a wider birth to knowing & understanding. Look.

The Friday Influence

This week’s poem – “Chinks” by Blaise Cendrars – reminded me of an early lesson about list poems, namely how most poems can easily slip into lists. Whether it be a series of phrases, images, or movements, lists can sneak their way into poems, usually in threes (note how even in this sentence about lists there is a list of three within it!).

Mind you, there’s nothing inherently bad about this: usually it’ll happen naturally and have its own rhythm. Finding ways to subvert this human tendency towards *ahem* “listing” in a poem is always a challenge.

In the poem below, I was moved by the way Cendrars is able to create a pocket of human action between lists. The tension created between nature images and the speaker’s silence in the poem’s narrative adds energy to both.

* pieces, in * * pieces, in *

Chinks – Blaise Cendrars

Sea vistas
Trees long-haired…

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