Tag Archives: art

Eidolons, Baby (recent poems, November 2012)

Eidolons, baby,* that’s all we are and all we make; we, our own ghosts, are the blurred after-images the pencil traces, what the waiting shapes. *This one came from a brief conversation with Andrew Griffin about the Walt Whitman poem.

Posted in Andrew Griffin, Art, Art is lies, Art is theft, Consciousness, John MacKenzie, Memory, Poetry, Recent poems, Walt Whitman | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Love Poem for Frida Kahlo

Love Poem for Frida Kahlo Down here we still look for the crow-winged sweep of your eyebrow silhouetted high over the nodding heads of the highbrow.

Posted in Art, Art is lies, Art is theft, Frida Kahlo, John MacKenzie, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Bernini’s Ecstatic Teresa (Under the Wing of Dürer)

My art education is spotty at best. Marie Fox introduced me to Bernini and Dürer a few years ago and I was entranced by the work of both. She reminded me last week of the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, and asked … Continue reading

Posted in Albrecht Dürer, Art, Art is lies, Art is theft, Gian Lorenzo Bernini, John MacKenzie, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sonnet, The Moon, The Wind | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Yesterday’s Poem (notes on process)

I’ll get to yesterday’s poem, as promised, eventually. But first, some generalities. For me, these days, writing poems is a cold-blooded endeavour. I don’t wait for or depend upon a burn of emotion, a flash of insight, a moment of … Continue reading

Posted in Art, Art is lies, Consciousness, Creativity, Epistemology, Memory, Poetics, Poetry, Process, The Brain, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Lament for Lorca (poems from old notebooks, July 1999)

I recall writing this while reading a now-forgotten biography of Lorca in a Chapters store in Victoria, BC. Lament for Lorca Fuck Dali, who was born dead— his heart more bent than his clock— how long can one man’s death … Continue reading

Posted in Art, Art is lies, Art is theft, Death, Federico Garcia Lorca, John MacKenzie, Poem tweets, Poems from old notebooks, Poetry, Salvador Dali | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Still Life by Moonlight

Where the moon will spill pale and cold through your window, I’ve left this green bowl of cherries and plums, taut-skinned over firm flesh—fragrant, wet

Posted in Art, Art is lies, Art is theft, John MacKenzie, Micropoetry, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Tanka, The Moon | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Hypothetical Sonnet (a note on playing with the form)

The Hypothetical Sonnet (a note on playing with the form) There’ll be another sonnet of sorts posted here tomorrow (the first four I’ve written specifically for the blog are here, here, here, and here), and so I figure it’s time … Continue reading

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