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.
Lorem Ipsum. Need a lion, fruit, biochemicals and laughter. Outdoor sapien football player. But there is no lion. Sometimes the jaws of manufacturing mass footballs and soccer become arrows. Notebook tastes of convenience, laughter. Films deductible. Each hydrogen broadcasts in the environment, but should not. Lakes sit soft. Mass manufacturing suspended or sterilized and will not free him. Always microwave bananas and peanuts for a salad. It is the present, grilled on television, with ghosts. There is no need now for tomorrow. Tweedledum and Tweedelee. Lorem Ipsum.
Annie Mulz was a stranger to herself, feeling that nothing is real.
Asleep in the world, losing the dice, unable to play the game; confused by a love she never had, invisible and nobody, yet she has a name, and that’s the beginning of something.
Unknown photographer. ancient camera, another lost memory along the family highway.
My dad - in his late teens, high school drop out, newly minted soldier, sweet incomprehension, shipping off to the Theaters of Europe and North Africa - posing with his father.
His dad, in gangster pose; made a good living as the neighborhood grocer - always drove new black Buicks, paid cash, of course. A basement bootlegger during the Great Depression he supplied bathtub gin to his side of the town.
With his stern, suspicious Eastern European stare he wordlessly says: "My boy, you’ll find out soon enough. There will be nothing for you to smile about when you return."
These two impenetrable ghosts, contrasting gravitas and innocence, are branded in my wiring, with meanings still unfolding.
Boho Dreams of Space and Time 