Aim for Wide Water: Ruby McCann

 

Ruby McCann is a stalwart of west of Scotland writing, a tireless organiser and enthusiast and supporter of others’ work. The poetry world easily divides for me into folk who are obsessed with themselves, and folk who are interested in poetry and its role in community and society. Ruby belongs to the latter group.

She is a writer and editor, a Glasgow based flâneuse (or city werifesteria) and creative practitioner experimenting across genres and disciplines. Active on the Scottish literary scene she is interested in popular culture, folklore and mythology, unique perspectives on women’s experiences and projects that shed light on marginalised voices.

McCann’s journey with poetry began at the ripe age of 13-years when she won the Scottish national school poetry competition with her poem, Billy the Pony. She was awarded the Mary Boyle McCrory Award for Excellence in Creative Writing as a student of Trinity University (Washington, DC). Her poem, Duke Street Rhapsody published in the Scottish Book Trust Journeys anthology was filmed by STV Glasgow and her poem, I’m still considering was a second joint winner for the Imprint Writing Award, 2018.

McCann is a founding member of Cheeky Besom Productions: ‘Artists with Attitude,’ an artist collective offering monthly opportunities for creatives at Glasgow Literary Lounge in Glasgow’s east end. Cheeky Besom Productions were shortlisted for The Herald Scottish Culture Awards, Behind the Scenes Award 2019. Her work has been published in magazines, anthologies, exhibits, film and online. Her first collection of poetry will be published by Red Squirrel Press. In the last few years she has founded, with Ian Spring, Rymour Books, an exciting new publisher for Scottish poetry and prose.

Here she reads Liminal, a stream of consciousness poem full of dream like imagery, anger and regret.

liminal

now that you occupy
somewhere in-between
lost in no longer
what was and what next
vital essences limbo-ed
divided into
meridian states of being
edging
a threshold
not yet moulded
measured on predestined
red string
attached getting tangled
contracted
and stretching
never breaking
connected
to heart of you
like promises made before
veiled within invisible worlds
intimacy brushes against
all stories criss-crossing
others
stitching a scarlet tapestry
threads gifted
to knit ourselves
together
after security and safety
of womb
for today
there are few shamans
to counsel on manhood
to give you flour
chickens and small
sums of money
today there are guns
for killing
memories fade
old ways die forgotten
lost in tides
and old moon man
no longer ties threads

we ignored his mystery
refused his wisdom
or heeded how all red strings
are linked
tied to someone else
for journeys end is a place
where lovers meet

weighing up: negative confessions for scribes

after all prayers for safe travel
to those departed creatives
bring straw and clay
and corn dolls to mould
for souls need a vessel
to emerge from death
and not all songs have melodies
or refrains holy rites ease

poor souls of art heavier
than the white feather of truth
to reach eternal paradise
when admitted to the academy
one has to criss-cross cosmic pomposity
underworldly lordy
justly dead judgy creators
mauling two-truths waiting on
weighing up pros and cons
feathered birds flocking
unruffled art absconding
hall of judgement

rowing Lily Lake piercing
veiled eternal nirvana or not
where loved ones wait
if riveted enough
when enlightened art wakens
masses queue-in pearly gates
steer your masterpiece
seek out a jackal-headed-man
named Anubis
God of all mere mortals
and time is fleeting
ask him what is right in the balanced
order of creation?
does art live eternally?
by streams
beneath trees
in fields of reeds

he will intentionally ignore you
reference page numbers from souls handbook
even if you didn’t receive a copy
absorbedly spellbound over last night’s love

trapeze tricks swinging in his head
thrown on peaks precise timing
too long ushering afterlife artistic musings
attending limitless golden scales balancing
soaring heavens glass ceiling
sky-high-ing short horizontal bars
hung by ropes with metal straps

for support follow him
he will escort you
to hall of truth
where long haired artists
vent snobbery in smouldering sacraments
smoke endless cigarettes
loaf around smearing walls
styling petty profound profanities
in one-dimensional font

fuck infinity

perpendicular geometric patterns
awaiting opinion-ed
sensitive Anubis’ ear
re-marks a riddle
is it possible to have art
lighter than a feather?
leaving you puzzled

overhead winged darting voluptuous
wind-swept Goddesses
bear fresh fruit and water
proffer overflowing wine goblets
hearten gratified confusion
alighting golden scales
in the way one alights a train
from Edinburgh at Glasgow Central
tallying harmony and balance
twerking to Beethoven’s Symphony
no. 7 in A major

dazingly dazed
42-judges consulting
three eternal fates
staging close measured side-stepping
squatting twerks harnessing power
blindly auditioning musicians behind a screen
eyeing art devoid of context
blending bias in performance

and should your art prove too heavy

whilst destiny’s gyrating booties distract
it will be thrown to the floor
gobbled up by an armoured
scaled beast with great crocodile jaws
far more sensitive than fingertips
legs bent and head low
rosette camouflaged front
marking you like a preying leopard
and a rhinos’ leathery lumpy broad-backed
loose piano-keyed vertebral column
teething fatality in those towering
thrusting hip movements
once devoured cease to exist
there will be no jet-black drays
drawing carriages
hearses or baroque floral tributes
no obituaries writ
because no art
decomposes death in real time
quite like an unbalanced feather


An Interview with Ruby:

Jim & Pat's Glasgow West End Chat Podcast - Ruby McCann chats to Pat Byrne. Ruby is a Glasgow poet, writer, playwright, and creative writing tutor. She’s won numerous awards had her work featured in many publications. | Free Listening on Podbean App

Another Poem by Ruby:

sweet chariot, by Ruby McCann | I am not a silent poet (wordpress.com)