brush strokes and flickering shadows
April 26, 2013
in memory of sheryl noonan
down below tip-toe with care into the room where shadows grow where cocooned nestled draped and still the filmstrip rests by furnace glow a garden strung of hanging cels pictures reversed so cool and slight her captured frames my shoulders brush their stories sing in fading light the first cel taken by cupid's true arrow a smooth sculptured sprite in silvery gold the artist's slight frame eyes focused and narrow brush and palette grasped ready, a well postured hold cels flicker back softly two sisters in pose curled fingers together in loving embrace a pair of young sculptors on winnipeg snow wrapped in crystals and fur on white sheets of lace or a moment suspended the swing at its arc our smiles so joyful in that sun-captured frame my face seems to tell her again! higher! faster! these memories timeless undated unnamed the next cel a view of manhattan's famed skyline an unfinished beauty the canvas wood grain feathered strokes inspired by nature's work guided pencil sketch shadows ever waiting for stain A rough rush of air as the subway car passes the crowd pushes forward i glance was it you? and forward i'm pressed with the TTC masses then years trickle by that slight sighting now through in a room crossed and guarded, protectors still, waiting i flip through the cels ever searching for reason every corner stacked perfect for balanced detection i cry for your terror this delusional prison are those feared shadows scattered by joy's infinite light no longer trapped in celluloid frames? i dream your art soars now free of the night peace be with you dear sherry ever more ever slight
sunlight dancing on water by James Morehead
March 9, 2012
sunlight dancing on water
a friend posted on facebook "of sunlight dancing on sparkling water" and in that instant eyes closed transported past office walls and cubicle rows to a childhood memory buried deep for forty years balanced waist deep in atlantic surf on a sand bar far from shore in swells white caps and swirls with sunlight dancing on sparkling water hands outstretched for elusive shards of light finger tips wrinkled in salt soaked water feet curled gripping sand and shells until sunlight and memory fade
shadow’s play by James Morehead
December 23, 2011
shadow’s play
the shadow enters on cue behind the viewers seated row on row hands placed shoulders still following players' spot lit forms and projected well-worn phrases out and over the darkened theater the shadow floats unseen between a couple's hands entwined a young child tugging with whispered questions and a solitary critic quietly scribbling the shadow drifts delicately along the stage's edge invisible to the spotlight's tracking beam beneath illuminated twinkles of drifting dust but the stage manager suspicious and watchful from a booth tucked high above adjusts her squinting glasses searching while the apparition plays tricks by the stage's edge the shadow sensing her drifts stage right tucks behind a gilded throne adorned with plastic jewels casting deceptive sparkles no more real than a shadow's touch and with that the shadow melts into the stage among the words and phrases masquerade and dancers foiled fighters' tears and fool's laughter her voice long since hidden and forgotten her steps no longer beholden to blocking her beating heart just a trick of light that vanishes in curtained darkness
serpents by James Morehead
September 26, 2011
serpents
driving back from reno up a twisting mountain pass while either side lie serpents as i silently trespass rotting oak posts stand close, buried shallow a careless worn serpent in quiet fields left fallow crooked barbed wire across a dust thirsty plain while bolts flaked with rust hint of last season’s rain elegant serpents strike parallel lines bolted rail ties and wooden brace spines held firmly in place forming strict even spaces racing forward never touching to faraway places this serpent’s turns churn soil and silt through fields of husks, yellow hints of gilt sand bags for storm clouds create sturdy walls fighting flood’s fury as the last drop falls a serpent in air floats to and then fro steps into thin air that opens below his sail slaloms silent (or perhaps it is hers) swooping forward then back - once still, then a blur bemused by imposters still under smooth stone this serpent forgotten for now left alone tongue tasting the air to sense passing prey while outside dusty sand swirls in circles of grey
reach by James Morehead
August 10, 2011
reach
reach reach and unfurl smooth tendrils of silver thread set them down in perfect parallel lines set them just so a breath apart one by one by one until silver lines blur into shades of grey shining smooth and sterile into the horizon reach reach and dig out pebbles worn smooth by ocean surf set them down still damp and glistening set them just so a breath apart in geometric swirls opening ever outward until you touch shadows cast by the setting sun reach reach inside me for buried fears set each fear in metered rows or rhyming verse set them just so a breath apart until words become a blur of black ink and blank space then take my hand and close my eyes guiding me to horizon’s edge where in a single breath scatter those fears turning words into scrambled letters tumbling until gone
in the city by James Morehead
July 30, 2011
in the city
i woke up in the city its streets glistening from midnight rain its sirens sleeping after moonlit races and a street sweeper churning past padlocked bikes around a lone reveler stumbling from a night club past two i woke up in the city to piercing alarms of bedside neighbors and pacing heels clicking to and fro on kitchen tiles and hardwood floors above my soot stained window view i woke up in the city confused at first by neon light with the early sun rising past the flickering glow and silver tower's shadow on town homes row by row awash in white noise a streetcar passing through i woke up in the city among unknown millions give or take in numbered streets and forgotten alleys where wonders splendor worries magnificent blend in greys discarded among the unknown
into the mountain by James Morehead
July 16, 2011
into the mountain
i walk into the mountain tempted by cool shadowy echoes and whispers from water rippling through ancient stone i walk eyes open senses tingling as sounds of the world vanish i feel my way along uneven slopes where unseen crevices wait to take me into permanent darkness my hands slide along the smooth fractured shale leaving an invisible wake the stone walls open and close surrounding me holding me the floor gives way and weightless my feet legs torso float into barren black space days weeks years meld time forgotten seconds uncounted and infinite all light lost in the water burrowed tunnels all time consumed by the ageless crush of buried stone