Abstract Mag TV | Incantation by Stephen Scott Whitaker
Abstract seeks fine art in all forms that engages with both the crises and joys of our shared human condition. We seek art that engages the edge of now; we seek to explore a future forward zeitgeist with a respect for the gifts of the past. We are looking for both established and emerging artists across a broad range of genres. Our criterion is quality.



Incantation by Stephen Scott Whitaker

02 May 2017, Posted by Editor in Poetry

Art Credit: Marie Dashkova, Photographer


The bones are mine

and the cookie cutters

are mine

and ripe smell of the compost

is mine,

and the dress curling at my ankles is mine.


The tattoo of the shark,

and the elephant static

and electric whistles of the radio

echoing up, up though the house

are mine,




And I am the house, and the chair rails,

and the sunlight gathering its knickers,

and I am father and tall wife.


And the poles that gather the dead are mine,

their sleepy knuckles knocking

are my own, own, own,


and oh, the crone in the attic is also mine

and the hairs on her chinny, chin, chin are mine,

and the small dark at the bottom of the stairs

is mine,

and the voice singing

love on the radio is mine,

is mine,

is mine.


And the synaptic rush is mine,

and the street scuttle

is mine,

and the hoary frost on the windows,

and the brusque wind,

and the sharp wrap of the teacher’s ruler

are mine,




And I am the cord around yr neck,

and the smell of powder in the air.

The death crushes are all mine


and the teeth that grow where teeth should not

are mine,

and the firearms and broken wheels

are mine,

and umbrellas turned up like sores,

are mine

And the eye back nails are mine,


and the bowl is mine,

and the spear is mine,

and the light beyond the shutter ribs is mine,




And this is my bag,

and these papers are mine,

and there is nothing that I won’t love

and that is mine, mine, mine.


About the author:

Stephen Scott Whitaker is a member of National Book Critics Circle, and managing editor of The Broadkill Review. His poetry, fiction, and essays have appeared in dozens of publications including Oxford Poetry, Anderbo, Grub Street, and others. Whitaker’s collection and chapbooks include: All My Rowdy Friends, The Black Narrows, the award winning Field Recordings, and The Barleyhouse Letters. He lives on the Eastern Shore of Virginia with his family.

Art: Marie Dashkova, Photographer, Moscow, Russia @melodyphoto
Model: Julia Safronova; Raven, Richard
You’ll Like Tacoma: A Sequence of Five Poems by Patrick E. Gabbard
Song for Lard by Susan Elbe
  • Bill Rivera

    Excellent. Hope we make contact again. I enjoy your work, both poetry and prose.

    Best, Bill Rivera (W.M. Rivera)

    I’m giving up the “W.M” — seems too formal. Just going for Bill Rivera. What do you think?


Post a comment

Web & Marketing Powered By 🚀 ROCKET®