Within the Lens of Attention: Introducing the Poetry of Susan Tepper and the Artwork of Georgia O'Keeffe
There is so much beauty in this world, but none more than in the exquisite specificity found in women’s art and poetry. This week we bring together two singular voices, the poetry of Susan Tepper and the artwork of Georgia O’Keeffe. Each uncovers the beauty within the beauty and the strength within that. Allow yourself to sit with these words and images. Let them run over and through you. Breathe. This is the power women hold.
Dappled
Over earth the light dappled
the same moment
in every hemisphere:
no beginning/middle/end.
I felt certain I didn’t qualify.
A voice over a sound system
confirmed this—
darkening the very spot
where I stood despairing
twisting my hands.
I felt unfairly treated and told this
to a nearby stranger,
A man luxuriating in his dappled
few feet of what was to come next.
Cracks & Fissures
The concrete had its story.
Cracks and fissures long
and wide
years of city neglect
tucked in shards of broken
bottles— was it fun
did you have a very good night?
The green plastic floss
shelters dispense
stretched thin its tired string—
chucked—
How many times unearthing
rot of the decades?
Of course those rubbers,
of course
shiny packaging luring you
with promises to keep.
Needles you made a point
of stepping around.
Don’t need that, uh-uh.
Once in hard rain you slipped
on the concrete, falling; screaming out
Thing pierced my leg, oh god, now what?
Despite the absence of anyone
hearing anything that night.
Thunder rolling in as if a war.
As Schumann Did
The man with stiff fingers
was unable to perform.
I’d already gotten naked
on the bed.
He seemed to be used to this—
no grief or embarrassment.
I asked if he once played piano.
He looked sort of stunned.
I told him he could tie strings to
his fingers and hang little weights
off them.
Like the famous composer, Schumann.
The man perked up a bit wetting his lips.
Don’t get too excited, I told him.
It only works for some.
It failed Schumann.
Disappear
Stupid things were muttered
in his quest to hopefully undress you:
You little girl virgin, childish thing.
Chuckling.
His speech while shaking out
the beach blanket. Wooly.
When you had no reply
he switched it:
This blanket is wide as a star.
You never asked to come to the dunes.
Happy to walk along the water’s edge
where the breeze felt deliciously cool
watching crabs scurrying in tide pools
only to disappear.
He’d parked some distance away.
You could just leave and walk to the car
sit on the hood
chin tucked to your knees and wait.
Sooner or later, eventually— he’d come looking.
COAL
You have received darkness
in bags and pieces
the way people picked up
coal near train tracks
during The Great Depression
running home to light the stove
cook an egg, shivering wet
the cold as night
splattering the floor
It’s fragments of shells
for birds
Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty year writer in all genres, as well as a playwright and director. Her most recent book is a novel from Spuyten Duyvil titled Hair Of A Fallen Angel released in the fall of 2024. Recently she presented her darkly comic domestic drama CLANDESTINE at EAG Author’s Guild Theatre, NYC, in a premiere Equity Staged Reading. Another play will present in the fall, with Frankie Faison in the male lead. www.susantepper.com
Georgia O’Keeffe was an American modernist painter known for her large-format paintings of flowers, New Mexico landscapes, and New York skyscrapers. Born in Wisconsin in 1887, she was a key figure in American modernism, developing an abstract style that captured the emotional and physical essence of her subjects. After studying in Chicago and New York and developing her style through teaching and experimentation, her work was championed by photographer Alfred Stieglitz, whom she later married. O’Keeffe spent her later years in New Mexico, where she painted its desert landscapes until her death in 1986.
So nice to see Susan Tepper increasing in the courage of her cameos, in her daring with words!