Already We Know the Name of Things
Remember the street? Remember the sunlight that day and how the wind coming off the sea swept you into another life...
Note: Today’s piece is an excerpt from Stops Along the Way, a new collaboration from painter Tabby Ivy and writer Damon Falke. Our previous excerpts include “In Motion, Still,” “Route 96,” and “The Light Within.”
Today’s poem and painting appear with eight other pairings in a new booklet, available to purchase here, which was released in conjunction with the exhibition Stops Along the Way – Tabby Ivy and Damon Falke at The 2one3 in Carlton, Oregon.
Already We Know the Name of Things
When does it happen that You walk into town, You walk across a park, You walk through a grocery store, Searching for deodorant or peppermint tea, When you see yourself on a street Where olive vendors handed out olives Stored in small wooden bowls. Remember the street? Remember the sunlight That day and how the wind coming off the sea Swept you into another life. How warm it felt. How deliciously lonely. Even a gangplank caused you to pause at the detriment between the boats and the pier. It was your heart that saw the iron railing Horseshoeing around the port. The windows Flamed with gifts, with wine. A lover Whose sentences ended with almost, with maybe, With it would have been. But between aisles seven and eight You stop. You lean forward against the cart, As you reach for your forehead. Then before going on, Before pushing ahead, you resist the urge to say their names out loud—the street name, the city, the lover, the sea. But imagine. Imagine if this had been us.
Stops Along the Way is the second collaboration between Tabby Ivy and Damon Falke, a writer, poet and playwright living in the far north of Norway. Their first collaboration resulted in the 2022 exhibition and book, Between Artists: Life in Paintings and Prose.
Both publications are available for purchase at https://www.tabbyivy.com/books
The exhibition was on view September 5th through November 6th, 2025 at The 2one3 in Carlton, Oregon.
Damon Falke is the author of, among other works, The Scent of a Thousand Rains, Now at the Uncertain Hour, By Way of Passing, and Koppmoll (film). He lives in northern Norway.
Tabby Ivy now lives and works in Carlton, Oregon. Her home studio is a sanctuary for working, and reading her extensive collection of art books. Learn more at www.tabbyivy.com.
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I hate poems about regret. Even when they are composed so well. Especially when they're composed so well, like this one. You see, this is crafted so cleverly that it makes everything feel too real. This one cleaves. It too easily seduces the reader into the briefest reveries where the air is balmy, the light is golden, the heart is dancing, the soul almost pours out like perperation on the forehead. It feels too much like a dream, and I cannot trust a dream for it dashes away as soon as I open my eyes. Yet, this poem is always going to be there. Every time I read it, and it will be many times, I will come to the end and not wake up. Because I'm already awake and the regret is real. I really hate poems about regret.