These two photos are part of the poem below -- the format is NOT all smacked into the LH side of the page -- but stanzas are pushed forward -- copy of poem available separately. It's a work in progress... The first photo was composed by David Perlman, Artist in Residence at Image City and can be viewed here: http://www.imagecityphotographygallery.com/Photogs_air.htm
He explained, "it is a composite of two photographs taken at a steam train museum in Vermont many years ago. I scanned the images from the original 35mm negatives and then combined them in my computer-- a process inconceivable back in the 1970s when the pictures were taken. The lower part is a cropped portion of an operating steam locomotive and the upper part is an enlarged picture of the same engine's piston rods (I'm attaching a copy). Each image is placed in the electronic equivalent of a separate acetate layer located one above the other. Where the piston rods show, the upper layer has been masked and made semi-transparent. The software provides an endless opportunity for creativity, AND, you can undo your mistakes!".
The other photo, I took.
To the tune of “Oblivion”
(Astor Piazzola) Sheet music: http://www.slideshare.net/sahya/oblivion-for-clarinet-pdf + arrangement for Piano + Clarinet: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YAC0XDjsNGI
piston rods quiet now
steel and strength silent
ob levis: who will remember
a chuffing train
on the tracks, whistling
here I come, carrying goods—
good people in good land
piston rods quiet now
steel and steam ghosted
ob levis: smoothing time
It is Spring, and snow covers daffodils,
and a steam engine.
It waits for children
to climb aboard, imagine old times
unlike the tractor
abandoned in the field two farms over.
Rust spangles patterns
on its chipped green hood;
angled blades will no longer break
the good earth; the spring-tooth harrow
is no longer good to prepare for planting.
plough blades quiet now
steel and strength silent
ob levis: drag horse, harrow
ob levis: in the way, of smoothing
ghosted in curls of clarinet
in a tune called oblivion
The way last night’s dusting of snow
covers the field which next year
will not grow corn, but new houses.
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