Collaboration
Ongoing Collaberative Works
Early June I had the good fortune to work with Irish writer, and award winning poet Jacob Moylan, on a collaborative project. We spent two weeks in historic Victoria, BC Canada, and traveling up and down Vancouver Island.
Jacob Moylan
Jacob Moylan is an award winning writer based out of Kilkenny Ireland. He travels extensively to perform his pieces for audiences, including international engagements. He has over a dozen publications to his name and is regularly the featured poet at L'arche Cafe in Callan, and The International Bar in Dublin.
Awards
The Circle Sessions: Poetry Day Ireland 2018: Best written and best performed, 2018
The Circle Sessions: Tales Vs Tunes: First prize, 2017
Ledwidge Poetry Society: Awarded Certificate of Merit, 2007
Kilkenny Poetry Broadsheet: Shortlisted, 2017
Red Line Book Festival: Shortlisted, 2016
Writer Jacob Moylan
The Perfect Bench
Poem by Jacob Moylan
Smoke. Acrylic on Board, 20" x 16", 2018
I come from the land where we spit smog like words
Fags outside the house workplace and bar
Wherever you are
This is the sanctuary of wolves speaking silver
But after the plain changed
Fags became cigarettes
And are had away from every building and wall
Hidden from all
There is one bench which is the perfect distance
To section off the suicidals from the rest
Hidden from all who care
A bench where the cool people go to lie
And wolves go to die
So I sit down
Wanting to be better than fangs fur and silver wisps
Wanting this land to cleanse my lungs with a kiss
I think I should be better
I think I should quit
But it's a full moon tonight
I cut down to two a day
Better doesn't mean good
Amber
Poem by Jacob Moylan
Portrait. Jessica Stepushyn, Watercolor, 6" x 4", 2013
Amber wears a skirt atop a glass ceiling
Imagine what the girl on top of us all is feeling
A girl beneath and beyond any god worth believing
Amber either has a cocaine nose
Or she goes to rock shows that come to blows
Mosh pits with no shits given
She used to wipe away the blood from her nose
But it was too much effort to damage the motif
Amber’s shade of lipstick reeks of grief
A step below sorrow
Evolved from her mother’s colours she used to borrow
Her lips look like they name everything “Mine”
But I feel she begged for something
Once upon a time
She has a shade of emerald mourning in her eyes
Like the metal studs
And the drinking buds
Are things to despise
It's as if there’s a little girl behind her iris
Asking me to save her
But she herself knowns the taint of saints
When faced with misbehaviour
They all tried to pull her from the dark places she goes
And now they just want a bloody nose
The Stepping Stones
Watercolor, 4" x 6", 2018
Foreign
Poem by Jacob Moylan
Boats on the Water. Jessica Stepushyn, Watercolor, 4" x 6", 2018
The breeze glides unique to my face
Abstract airs pepper the skin differently
As if following orders from the foreign sun
Of a culture unknown
With customs obscure
People don't dress like they do back home
Birds dance in different dyes for their feathers
But eyes are always the same
As if the pupils pertain to preachings from the same parchment
Iris' all say the same thing
How odd
Both theirs and mine
Gates of Harmonious Interest
Watercolor, 4" x 6", 2018
Tide Going Out
Acrylic on Canvas Board, 8" x 10", 2018
