
Poetry Inspires Artistic Collaboration in Arlington
On Wednesday March 3, 27 attendees enjoyed the ArtLinks Arlington virtual opening event. As the pieces were presented, Steven read aloud the corresponding poems. Participating artists spoke about what the poems meant to them and how the poems related to their pieces. Many art mediums are present in this show: paintings, fiber arts, collage, photography, and film.
The show has an intimate, engaging feeling and can be viewed in person through March 31, M-F, 10am-2pm. Limit of two visitors, by appointment only. Email tom@acarts.org at the Arlington Center for the Arts, 20 Academy Street, Arlington. ArtLinks looks forward to next year’s collaborative event and welcome suggestions.
ArtLinks Arlington offers members a variety of monthly events and networking opportunities. New members of all art forms are welcome to join. Email here for more information
Selected Poems by Steven Ratiner

So It Goes
dipping a wing, leveling off,
great feather-light planes of color
threaded together like a Miró
mobile suspended in a gulf
of darkness inside some museum
of forgotten days, the faces of strangers
gazing upward, mouthing words you
cannot make out from this all-
consuming distance: hospice, the bed-
side gathering, the long night followed
by the even longer morning.
Supermoon
were touting on the news but
in the pond’s black skies which
in his small fist. Opening it slowly
and by what he’s possessed
I kiss the moon there.
Transcendental Postcard
the downpour has let up
and sail blades divide
one blue from another.
The eye bathes in light’s
sheer indifference.
Like carved figureheads,
bearded iguanas stare out from
the smooth limbs of the turpentine.
This whole island is a prow
rocking at anchor. You’d
have loved this blue stillness.
I’d have loved any weather
which delayed your departure.
Fathering
froze over in this throat, he had a hard timewith the snow — He couldn’t say,
and the sky wouldn’t stop saying —
We went walking, and the tracks
in our wake — And the cardinal-
red calligraphy scribbled between trees —
And the ticking like Morse across hat brim —
And the time I was certain his hiss
was about to coalesce into Steven —
And the dream I kept having: moon-
slick trail rising between birch ribs, breath
becoming smoke, ink becoming breath —
Writing these words across the page —
And even before the sentence is complete,
the footprints filling up with white —