AUGUST 13 FIRE CYCLE FILM RETROSPECTIVE!

Catch all 5 Fire Cycle films in one night! Ticket link coming soon.

Thur, Aug 13 at the Darkhorse Theater, Nashville.


THE FIRE CYCLE: STONE SUTRA

In 2025, Clay received an Artist-In-Residence opportunity from the PBS-affiliated arts platform ALL ARTS to create a 30-minute film for broadcast on their streaming platform, YouTube, and select PBS stations. More news to come in the near future!

The film was co-directed by Clay Steakley and Becca Hoback with cinematography by Tyler Dunning Evans. Music and words by Clay, choreography by Becca. Starring Becca Hoback, Denise Eason, Spencer Grady, Frannie Melancon, Asia Pyron, Amanda Reichert, Phylicia Roybal, and Alex Winer.

The Fire Cycle is poetry, music, dance, live performance, film, and visual art.

See Stone Sutra at All Arts

Don’t miss the final Fire Cycle film, made possible by a grant and artist-in-residence opportunity from All Arts! See it here.

Who’s behind The Fire Cycle?


COLLABORATORS

Invocation

The sun ascends and descends the altar.

The rib cages of whales are cathedrals.

So are cicadas, sinkholes, actual cathedrals.

Tobacco shops and kitchens are chapels.

Autumn is a prayer rug, the full moon a wafer.

Every day is a feast day if you have the right calendar.

The priest sun with its golden chasuble.

The gleaming train that drags the earth.

The golden sequins that fall away and catch on

The distant sea, in your hair, on lottery tickets,  

On the backs of the hands of old women

Contemplating the scratches in their wedding rings.


Crows are priests only because so is everything:

Mice and emeralds and pears and good food.

Supplicant skeleton trees in stubblefields,

Beseeching beeches lifting branches to the sky.

On Halloween a blue moon means something,

But what that is washed long ago off this stone.

The priestess moon, great with child and gliding

Silent and perfect as the queen’s barge

On the Nile, on the freckled backs of galaxies.

White shield, heavenly oculus, leaving her likeness in

Water basins, wells, lovers’ eyes, shanty towns,

Cafe windows smeared with colored light.

The smell of coming snow, like a cold lake.

The smell of good soil, which is mostly rot.

The smell of legs in grass entwined like snakes.

The smell of woodsmoke from an old man’s house.

The smell of coming snow, like a cold lake.

The sun ascends and descends the altar.

Fire Cycle Poetry Excerpt

For more poems, check out the book.