Jackie Cassen Bio

These poems are the creation of Jackie Cassen -- poet, digital artist, and video producer.

Miss Cassen currently lives and works on Staten Island, New York, where she exhibits her digital art and poetry on Cloudrunner-Gallery.com and jackiecassen.com. Jackie reads her poetry and shows her paintings at Snug Harbor and at the Muddy Cup. She is an active member of the Poetry Society of Staten Island.

In her digital art, Miss Cassen concentrates on form in nature as expressed through current technology. Her digital works are original, one-of-kind paintings, created with light rather than pigment.

Jackie's art has been featured on magazine covers for the Boston Computer Society, and she has exhibited her work at the Museum of Science in Boston, the Boston University gallery, and at MIT.

Miss Cassen's video work has been displayed at the Whitney Museum and is in the permanent collection of Malcolm Forbes. She has also produced for Time Warner Cable.

Jackie also creates multimedia works combining her poetry and paintings, which are available on CD. Last summer her poetry and paintings were featured in an outdoor performance in Staten Island's Clove Lakes Park, sponsored by the Council on the Arts and Humanities, Staten Island.



  How do your write your poem
Curled round chewing on a pencil --
Still, standing, staring in a space --
How do you write your poem?
Head in hand, resting on the table?
Huddled or crouched waiting on
Inspiration --
Kneeling hunched over linoleum --
HOW DO YOU WRITE YOUR POEM?
Sitting on a toilet in a room crowded
With fixtures --
When do you write a poem?
Always --------- and ever
Whenever it hits me -------- whenever
A beginning comes running to catch me:
However it happens to arrive --
Sometimes as a Tylenol at midnite
When mourning a dead illusion.
I can't claim the words as mine --
I don't write poems
I just write them down
They come thru me not from me!
I don't run to the roof waving flags,
I don't beg your attention --
No composing, no scribbling ------
I just sit by the window, empty handed -----
But the window is always open ----
Wide -- as a refuge for wings flying thru.
If they perch for a moment to peck at my sleeve --
Tilting a pointed beak -- black eye unblinking,
Round as a coin -- I stay still, never moving
A breath to disturb them -- they scatter when ready,
They know when it's time -- they don't say farewell --
They're sure I know why ----- They'll return!

 






Copyright Jackie Cassen 2006