Another poetic tease

Yes, this is one of my lame posts where I tell you how busy I am and promise you the world if you'll just wait for it.

I do have several poems in mid-birth, and a number of other story ideas that are still only a twinkling in the eye of conception. I just need to find a life's time to sit at the computer and bang them all out.

Until the genius grant money comes rolling in, however, ample writing time isn't going to happen on a consistent basis. So, as a holdover I give you a tiny taste of the poem furthest along in my queue: 720 Clocks.

round faces and square

ornate and spare

one favorite embedded in

a black cat's belly
with tick-waved paws

and twitch-tocked tails

Fractured Foot, finally finished

Here is the colored and shaded iteration of my drawing Fractured Foot. Because of the more muted color choices, I don't think it's that strikingly different from the nude version that I posted a couple weeks back. It's meant to be a companion illustration to my poem Footsteps.

Argus & Io: Birthing a conclusion

This is the conclusion to my poem Argus & Io. It's a bit more open-ended than the original myth, but I always prefer ambiguity over certainty. Visual art next, so stick around.

Argus & Io
By Francis Scudellari

IV.

She,
twisted
metal dragged
in clanked tangle
behind, unguarded
ahead, halting first steps
toward un-purposed
paths that spoke out
a blurred wheel
beyond
her
sentry's
fallen-trunk
malodorous
conjuring descent
of cloud effacing pests
tasked by sky-seated
mistress to goad
Io on
knowing
words
non-sensed
by veined beats
a buzzed babble
of wing-confused flight
that leads still too-cowed thoughts
in mad-apparent
earthbound wander
to find love
birthing
time

Argus & Io: The watcher foiled

Continuing on, this is the penultimate part of my latest poem. I hope to have it completed within the next few days.

Argus & Io
By Francis Scudellari

III.

He
a-fog
spies early
morning ride in
rosy on curled backs
of a low-rising mist
pushed by one errand-
spelling breeze's
deceitful
lyrics
blow-
whispered
to drowse with
threaded tunes spun
by humming needle-
sharp leaves, olive clatter
drummed as owning twigs
knock, lulling shut
his hundred
eyes, close-
kept
charge loosed
in whiting
flash, thunder's clap
and Argus quick-caught
by writ-mischief's lean hands
foiling-wrapped within
tight, re-coiled tales
his never
slipping
free

Argus & Io, halfway home

This is the second part of my poem Argus & Io. It focuses on the female half of that mythical dyad. I don't know if familiarity with that story's details improves or lessens the impact of the my words...

Argus & Io
By Francis Scudellari

II.

She
ill-changed
by light, blind
rage-punishment
unearned for baring
another's intentions,
his wont of too much
never sought for
or seeking
her was-
nymph's
once so
sleek, well-drawn
lines pulled wide, smudged
till broken, transformed
to a dark spotted bulk
she awkward carries
on four legs, mind
always led
circling
back
tethered
to a gnarled
soil-clutching tree
with taut-stretched chain's forged
gray, heavy iron links
slow dragged, in-cutting
circumscribed arcs
through bitter,
narrow
blades

Argus & Io, Part One

This is the first part of my new poem inspired by another classical myth. To read a little background on the story that informed it, check out the Wikipedia article on Argus Panoptes (all-seeing Argus).

Argus and Io
By Francis Scudellari

I.

He
put on
cocky watch
towering stands,
long-reaching throws off
shadows of square-cut limbs
loose-draped in rough skin
to guard against
dawn's thick air
creeping,
chilled
his own
flagging strength
braced by sipped fire
sharpening fifty
paired eyes that monstrous ring
his still, uncrowned head
each visited
by just one
moment's
sleep
well-timed
in rolling
blinked-lid cascade
to stop-frame project
scenes from dewy-green fields
keeping a beast for
the jealousy
of too quick-
fading
robes

Flibber T. Gibbet

I don't know exactly how I'll use it yet, or whether it's even very original, but I'm considering building a series of short verses around a recurring character named Flibber T. Gibbet.

I'm envisioning a spritely young woman with the general appearance of my Feeling Green drawing. This is all a very sudden inspiration, so it's still percolating. I may even use her for something else entirely.

A naked foot first

I've been a bit busy and haven't set aside the time to finish up my latest drawing. I thought it might be interesting, however, to show off what one of my sketches looks like before I begin adding the colors.

Here's my "Fractured Foot" in the nude. I like the starkness of it, so I'm glad I can capture it for posterity here before altering it on the page.