If you are in Denton this month, be sure to stop by the Merging Visions exhibit at the Denton Public Libraries. All three branches are participating in the pairing of poetry and art. For a limited time, you can also pick up a copy of Collections I, the Merging Visions book (made possible by a grant from the Denton Benefit League), which features each pairing that is in the exhibit, in color no less.
This is the fourth year for the exhibit; what began as former Denton Poets’ Assembly president Bonnie Allmond’s fledging brainchild has flourished into a partnership that includes DPA, the Visual Arts Society of Texas, and Denton Public Library, with 59 pairings at all three branches of DPL.
I have three poems paired, and the artwork is phenomenal. I want to thank the three artists who paired with me this year: Tesa Morin, Lisa Daniels, and Elva Salinas.
I saw Tesa’s Bundle of His I, II, & III at Shambhala Wellness Center in Denton, and knew that this work would be perfect with my poem “Three.” Tesa is also paired with Christina Smith, a fabulous poet and fellow Co-President of DPA. Tesa’s video piece, The Transfer, continuously loops beside Christina’s poem “Relay.”
Lisa contacted me last year to tell me how much she enjoyed my poem “& It Had a Vortec Engine under the Hood.” Lisa mainly paints watercolors of old cars and boats, and this was the first year she had wanted to participate in Merging Visions. When I opened the exhibit book and saw her painting, It Had a Vortec Engine under the Hood, I felt like I was seeing a photo of an old friend. She captured the Blazer perfectly.
Elva Salvinas agreed to create art for my poem “Boogie.” She chose photography as the medium, and her photograph Dance with Me Mom, is absolutely beautiful.
If you can’t see the show, you can check out the exhibit’s Collections I online:
Night, and desert flora becomes
glowing eyes following us past
every road sign. Unexplained lights winking,
middle of nowhere psychedelic— like we fed
our heads something other than cigarettes
and soda before jumping in the Blazer,
driving west. Maybe we absorbed mariposa pollen
or cactus dust flitting through open windows–
lungs capturing peyote spores,
skin digesting vision quests.
We decide to stop—desert quiet
too loud for Midwestern city girls.
We register at the motel, grateful for a bed,
a good night’s sleep. Awakening to sand-blown sunshine
in this quaint wooden-walled room, gold name plate
on the door: The Hunters. We think the description apt–
we are hunting. We do not know what.
Sighs, then reluctant repacking of the truck, we
turn in our key, strap on seat belts—
our oasis shrinking as tires log anticipation
with each revolution. Onward into emptiness,
flowers now only petals, cacti wearing needles
and not bandido uniforms, UFOs banished behind blue.
But our high still there,
driving us through,
driving us,
driving.