DEANNA SIRLIN
Color + the Body
New Poems for Deanna Sirlin's Exhibition Wavelength
Elevate Atlanta at Chastain Gallery of the Mayor's Office of Cultural Affairs, City of Atlanta, Georgia
October 1, 2022
The Poets
Sharrif Simmons, E.Hughes, Melba Joyce Boyd, Charleen McClure, Andrea Jurjević and Opal Moore
Any Day Now
by Sharrif Simmons
What sound is thrumming in these colors,
Something urgent,
I hear through my eyes
A synesthesia,
Inspired by blue strokes,
Imagining moments to come,
Anticipating the next layer,
The warm yellow,
Streaking across the middle,
Like a slow melody,
Moving my fingers over steel strings.
The static image resonates with music,
A sound I know.
Orange arrives like new sunlight,
At the base of the frame,
A sudden horizon,
Rising through dark lines, reappearing at its peak, completing a cycle of days.
What we don't see is all there,
Just out of sight,
A palette of colors,
Wet brushes, dipped in acrylic, moving across blank spaces,
Illustrating urgent marks, placed perfectly where they belong.
It all feels pressing, a warning in bright colors,
Arriving as melody on my guitar.
What is her warning?
Maybe the weather
Maybe the economy
Maybe the collapse of democracy,
The stolen legacies, the war, the racism, the inequality.
Or maybe, it’s the hope change will arrive,
Any Day Now.

Sharrif Simmons with Any Day Now, 2022, Acrylic on canvas,14 x 11 inches

Deanna Sirlin, Any Day Now, 2022, Acrylic on canvas,14 x 11 inches
We Have Made a Bed of This Landscape—
Ekphrasis of Long For, 2020
by E. Hughes
The colors of our bodies—red, Klein blue sinking
into black. This is every bed peopled by the weight
of love, sagging in the middle, submitting to the will
of time. It doesn’t matter if we were here or not—
we attain no speech in this desire. Instead, we burst
like black at sunrise. Light’s golden will—a stroke of
god—is not the prosody of night, is not what we have
come to this bed to achieve.
Look at me—
through this imperfect line of passion. I am gone
in the weight of your body. I am gone in the mouth
of your violet touch. This sequence is all I can manage
of love—the failure of my body to reach you in this
horizon. My desire the vertical ghost interrupting this
pattern of color.
In this bed—
we are a sermon forgone of speech. We are this
landscape forgone of distinction. What are we
if the mountains disappear? If the trees walk
happily into unmeaning? If we call every sound
we make in this bed ocean?

E Hughes with Long For, 2020, Acrylic on canvas, 84 x 60 inches
Deanna Sirlin, Long For, 2020, Acrylic on canvas, 84 x 60 inches

Deanna Sirlin, Hello Hello, 2020, Acrylic on canvas, 84 x 60 inches
Wavelengths Inside Sunsets on Lake Huron
by Melba Joyce Boyd
Red brightens,
blue cools,
yellow highlights
moods defining
and contouring
colors of Black space
enveloping a planet,
oscillating within
a spectrum of
light and sight.
Violets peek
between leaves.
dandelion blooms
intervene between
blades of grass,
revolting against
human control
of green space,
illuminating
the black valence
of lambda,
reflections of
a sunset sinking
beneath the
water line of
Lake Huron as
the planet
rotates indefinitely
within time
indifferent to
man’s ignorance
as space frames
the moon refracting
rainbows while
owls perch
inside night
to hunt prey,
as we huddle
around fire,
illuminating
small spaces,
to protect our
vulnerability,
without colors
that shape
and define
life invisible
in the dark.
Red bleeds
into blue,
purple fractures
into lilac,
and green springs
into trees,
confirming our
belief in rebirth
and renewal
when yellow light
returns at sunrise
to assure and
to affirm us.

