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.
There was a time back then, when the closest to a smile he could conjure was a dissatisfied smirk, targeting his malaise.
He avoided mirrors;
convinced that his desires were misguided, at best, he smothered in masks of self-preservation, nurtured in solitude, exhausted in cast-iron stealth, yet with someday hope.
Someday hope.
The planets aligned then, out of the blue, like an angel whispering a gentle major chord that crescendoed into a dream of flying.
Now, in this free play towards oneness, in this avalanche his agnostic soul begins to call blessings,
he knows, he has been delivered from the non-linear, when nothing was straight-forward;
with the last laugh of relief, he soars into the loving embrace of everything, of everyone of himself.
A spark would arc to create a permanent circuit, goosing lineage, while expanding freedom from the quarantine of fixed expectations and borrowed inspiration.
While I was walking to catch a ferry home - it was leaving in ten minutes - I ran into a former friend; someone who I pulled the plug on a couple of years ago: the friendship wire frayed from denial and disrepair.
as always, his dress was casually prosperous and well-ironed, though a bit strained under some extra weight; his curly hair set in place with product, his eyes tired and porcine.
we shook hands a bit too forcefully, with the illusion of enthusiasm, as if nothing had gone down between us.
I asked him about his succession of jobs; yes, every one continued to have a villain who didn’t appreciate his value. they all started with promise, but ended badly. he is presently unemployed and collecting again.
girlfriends? a couple of instant soul mates, but nothing lasting, they all have emotional problems. presently single, but looking.
he bought a new Beemer last year - posted it on Valentine's Day - before his latest job termination, still lives in a small rental in town, planning to buy a house of his own when…
his mom’s still hemorrhaging his inheritance - always nothing but the best - in the best assisted-living facility, still alive at ninety-seven, though she doesn’t recognize him when he visits every couple of months; he is relieved that mom doesn’t recognize his sister either, who visits every day. he’s gotten a lawyer to protect what’s coming to him.
nothing’s changed.
didn’t have much time to answer what about you? with more than: still married, still working, still living in our same home; but we adopted a rescue dog from Arkansas.
hearing the ferry announced I said gotta go.
quickly shook his hand and walked away before the inevitable: let’s-get-together or what happened?
don’t remember what caused the unplugging, probably was a bunch of small things that gnawed at the cable; only knew that the wires were beyond repair.
Boho Dreams of Space and Time 