by Dick Altman
A farewell to a beloved emporium that ralllied the
artistic spirits of generations
artistic spirits of generations
Your quilting ideas
all begin humble
enough—with a visit
to the base of Joann’s
multi-hued tree,
whose fruit feeds
your artistic passions,
blooming eventually,
perhaps months later,
into fabric canvases,
selected for eyes
of a dozen countries
or more.
You don’t create
for the prize.
Your true love,
a love since
childhood,
is breathing life
into your imaginings,
using a paint brush
of needle and thread,
and blossoms
of fabric culled
from Joann’s
garden
of visual delights,
almost beyond
number.
Nothing,
it seems,
lies beyond
your reach.
A portrait
of a distant cousin,
wounded
in America’s
Civil War.
Raised arms
whose fingers
transmute
into a ululation
of flames,
recalling conflict
in the Middle East.
A storm at sea,
whose
three dimensional
sea gulls,
appear to rise
off the canvas,
as they
weave themselves
amid waves
seeking to touch
the clouds.
I often stand
in wonder—
I who struggle
to turn a patchwork
of words
into a caress of lines—
as you sketch
your ideas into being,
with a sureness,
I could never wring
from a first draft.
You call Joann’s
your bazaar
of inspiration.
I call it
a spinning wheel
of miracles.
Dick Altman writes in the high, thin, magical air of Santa Fe, NM, where, at 7,000 feet, reality and imagination often blur. He is published in Santa Fe Literary Review, American Journal of Poetry, Fredericksburg Literary Review, Foliate Oak, Landing Zone, Cathexis Northwest Press, Humana Obscura, Haunted Waters Press, Split Rock Review, The Ravens Perch, Beyond Words, The New Verse News, Wingless Dreamer, Blueline, Sky Island Journal, and others here and abroad. His work also appears in the first edition of The New Mexico Anthology of Poetry published by the New Mexico Museum Press. Pushcart Prize nominee and poetry winner of Santa Fe New Mexican’s annual literary competition, he has authored some 250 poems, published on four continents.