A collection of photos and poems interacting with each other in ways both mysterious and obvious.
Author: davestankowicz
Dave Stankowicz is a retired educator who lives on an island off the coast of Portland, Maine with his wife Debbie Jordan and their dog Cody. Liberated from the responsibilities of teaching he has found the space and time to pursue so much that interests him. Dave is the former host of the WMPG radio show Palm Wine Radio, and currently hosts Next To Silence - an hour long show that explores different themes, genres, artists and record labels. Next to Silence can be streamed live on Peaks Island Radio at https://peaksislandradio.com on Mondays and Fridays @ 7:00 PM EDT, and Tuesdays @noon. You can also stream archived shows at his site (category: next to silence)
He continues his lifelong efforts to master space and time.
Who owns the iguana that answers to Ramona?
The mind of the wind contains sudden gusts of cantankerousness
Silliness is indefensible when it hardens into tradition
The Circus of Rightness can’t always be wrong, can it?
It’s as confusing as where Schrodinger's Cat goes to the bathroom
At worst the moon is nullified by rolling fog
Who owns the iguana that answers to Ramona?
The mind of the wind contains sudden gusts of cantankerousness
Silliness is indefensible when it hardens into tradition
The Circus of Rightness can’t always be wrong
The mind of the wind contains sudden gusts of cantankerousness
It’s as confusing as where Schrodinger's Cat goes to the bathroom
The Circus of Rightness can’t always be wrong
At worst the moon is nullified by rolling fog
It’s as confusing as where Schrodinger's Cat goes to the bathroom
Silliness is indefensible when it hardens into tradition
At worst the moon is nullified by rolling fog
Who owns the iguana that answers to Ramona?
Be patient without waiting
Says the poet
Memory is our savior
Get lost in the silence that liberates
Make visible what is invisible
Meaning dissolves when you look too hard
Be patient without waiting
Says the poet
Memory is our savior
Get lost in the silence that liberates
Says the poet
Make visible what is invisible
Get lost in the silence that liberates
Meaning dissolves when you look too hard
Make visible what is invisible
Memory is our savior
Meaning dissolves when you look too hard
Be patient without waiting
Within a posse of badgers
Conventional notions are being dealt a deathblow
Tightly strung neurosis taken to a high style
A salvo of gutsy and quixotic doggerel
Disreputability raised to the level of ecstatic and heartrending art
Beyond that judge for your self!
Within a posse of badgers
Conventional notions are being dealt a deathblow
Tightly strung neurosis taken to a high style
A salvo of gutsy and quixotic doggerel
Conventional notions are being dealt a deathblow
Disreputability raised to the level of ecstatic and heartrending art
A salvo of gutsy and quixotic doggerel
Beyond that judge for your self!
Disreputability raised to the level of ecstatic and heartrending art
Tightly strung neurosis taken to a high style
Beyond that judge for your self!
Within a posse of badgers
Slipping into darkness
Within these pauses of pleasure upon Erector Set innocence
You can chance deep gondola romance and not carry
despondence into your life
Pretty soon you got to pay
Worry is a shoddy fortune teller
You know she loves drinking whisky while laughing at the moon
Slipping into darkness
Within these pauses of pleasure upon Erector Set innocence
You can chance deep gondola romance and not carry
despondence into your life
Pretty soon you got to pay
Within these pauses of pleasure upon Erector Set innocence
Worry is a shoddy fortune teller
Pretty soon you got to pay
You know she loves drinking whisky while laughing at the moon
Worry is a shoddy fortune teller
You can chance deep gondola romance and not carry
despondence into your life
You know she loves drinking whisky while laughing at the moon
Slipping into darkness
In a country of loners sides can’t exist
Being privy to a joke no one else is on
Revising the laws of nature
Less an impulse than a code of ethics
If you don’t get grounded soon you’re gonna go into orbit
Are you born to stay and fight, or born to leave?
In a country of loners sides can’t exist
Being privy to a joke no one else is on
Revising the laws of nature
Less an impulse than a code of ethics
Being privy to a joke no one else is on
If you don’t get grounded soon you’re gonna go into orbit
Less an impulse than a code of ethics
Are you born to stay and fight, or born to leave?
If you don’t get grounded soon you’re gonna go into orbit
Revising the laws of nature
Are you born to stay and fight, or born to leave?
In a country of loners sides can’t exist
We are all, in the end, mysteries to ourselves.
You think that you know something special?
So what?
Question everything you know.
What we care for has a short shelf life.
It may be real, but is it true?
We are all, in the end, mysteries to ourselves.
You think that you know something special?
So what?
Question everything you know.
You think that you know something special?
What we care for has a short shelf life.
Question everything you know.
It may be real, but is it true?
What we care for has a short shelf life.
So what?
It may be real, but is it true?
We are all, in the end, mysteries to ourselves.
For what it’s worth
With nothing worth memorializing anniversaries are attempted funerals,
It’s all a filing cabinet of yesterdays and once-upon-a times,
This idea that what you do would immediately count is a tale told for generations,
The soft center of faith is greasing the wheels to make understanding simple,
Not all answers are available on the spot,
For what it’s worth
With nothing worth memorializing anniversaries are attempted funerals,
It’s all a filing cabinet of yesterdays and once-upon-a times,
This idea that what you do would immediately count is a tale told for generations,
With nothing worth memorializing anniversaries are attempted funerals,
The soft center of faith is greasing the wheels to make understanding simple,
This idea that what you do would immediately count is a tale told for generations,
Not all answers are available on the spot,
The soft center of faith is greasing the wheels to make understanding simple,
It’s all a filing cabinet of yesterdays and once-upon-a times,
Not all answers are available on the spot,
For what it’s worth.
Time’s Up
Feel your way through waves of particularization,
Without intent,
Without thinking,
With desire,
Appetite,
Instinct, and
Impulse,
meandering in circles,
Leaping gaps
And transgressing borders.
Times up -
Put up or shut up.
Such excitement
Wrapped in fright -
Being caught writing love letters
To a time and place
That never was.
Has this happened -
Subsumed into moments that shuffle
Into an impossible ending -
Or not?
Stories we tell ourselves
Being vulnerable is being alive
Explanation often negates the thing itself
Stale like a deflated balloon
The false confidence of skewed dispositions
Questioning the things that really count
Stories we tell ourselves
Being vulnerable is being alive
Explanation often negates the thing itself
Stale like a deflated balloon
But being vulnerable is being alive
The false confidence of skewed dispositions
Stale like a deflated balloon
Questioning the things that really count
The false confidence of skewed dispositions
Explanation often negates the thing itself
Questioning the things that really count
Stories we tell ourselves
The love-making isn’t like it used to be
Back then it was all dazzle and steamed up windows
Everybody’s going at it
Sex was a monumental headache
Revealing all the facts of life
Traffic had come to a complete stop
The love-making isn’t like it used to be
Back then it was all dazzle and steamed up windows
Everybody’s going at it
Sex was a monumental headache
Back then it was all dazzle and steamed up windows
Revealing all the facts of life
Sex was a monumental headache
Traffic had come to a complete stop
Revealing all the facts of life
Everybody’s going at it
Traffic had come to a complete stop
The love-making isn’t like it used to be
Boho Dreams of Space and Time 