Two blackbirds find a space
and divert each twitch-shifting
lift as if formalism of light
has caught them off-guard - objects
hidden in the tree are disturbing buildings,
songs of melancholy, real parts of paintings.
The birds are made up of
straight lines and flawless linear struggles.
They may not seep, their argument
is with the stuff of blossoms,
up to their chests in it.
Their arguments are with each other -
making familiar grids of transcendence,
a hop-skip of song
and the flat grey worldis just another poem.
(Cathy Cullis 2016 - please do not copy or reproduce without permission)
This piece came about from direct observation: seeing two and then three blackbirds bickering in a small treee outside my window. At that time I was reading several books on art theory. The two worlds merged as I worked on the poem. I wrote it a few months ago now. It was an interesting process to almost rediscover my way into the poem through stitching it. The work is stitched using cotton thread on black linen with a backing of black cotton.
This stitch-text work will be in my shop on Wednesday