Monday, February 22, 2010

Tsunami: Dark Tide

[click to enlarge]

“Tsunami” is the third of the three poems by Gary B. Fitzgerald that I wrote about several days ago in The Great Reckoning. The second poem and drawing are here. Together they form a kind of “triptych unhinged” — I’m tempted to sew them together and frame them somehow, or mount them on a solid surface.

In the Forum: Henry, Eliza, and the Scotland mystery.


RUDHI - Chance said...

Should be written by calligraphic ink by hand I think... But nice to see 'nd read! But difficult to understand fully for a mere School-'Englisher'...

William Michaelian said...

Rudhi, that’s okay — you’ll learn a special kind of English by reading poetry. And it’s true, there’s much to understand in Gary’s poem.

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...


Dear William:

I apologize for not responding sooner but, as I mentioned, circumstances have precluded my timely internet access.

Thank you for sharing my scrolls on your website. The scrolls were meant to be a personal gift to thank you for letting me post my poems here and even complimenting them on occasion with your wonderful drawings. Your sharing them here has made them even more personal.

Actually, the story of the scrolls is quite amusing. I had to go to four stores in two different towns to gather the ingredients, got lost trying to find the fancy Art Store that had the special paper and ended up at Wal-Mart anyway, had to buy a can of spray-on glue at the Hobby Lobby because that’s all they had and so accidentally glued my cat to the kitchen table, who had stepped in my red Chinese chop ink, which totally pissed off my wife when she discovered that not only were there red paw prints all over the table but that the dinner plates were actually stuck to it, as well.

Assuming I survive, I will get back to you in greater length when conditions allow.


William Michaelian said...

Gary, let this be a lesson to all budding artists: know your materials, your wives, and your cats; in so doing, you will come to know yourselves.

Thanks very much for checking in. I know you’ve gone through some major changes recently, and that your online activity has been greatly curtailed, so I really appreciate this visit.

The scrolls are wonderful. So was their miraculous appearance on my doorstep. The mailman even forgot to ask me what we were having for supper that day.

I’m pleased that this lovely exchange is part of the record. And to be sure, it has a life of its own.

Thanks again.