Category: Photographs

Stolen Slippers

Footloose,
Untethered,
Stolen.

Or if you believe such things,
Simply slipping through
Invisible portals,
Vanishing without warning.

Worn out steps of dancing feet.
Previously confident ,
Across the path of practice,
Passages of musical time
Indefinitely suspended.

Once loved evidence of  
Masterful pointes and whirling pirouettes,
Retired by inevitable exhaustion.

Hiding in plain sight,
Consumed by the greengrass cloak
Of enigmatic loss,
This mystery of misplacement
Happens to us all.

Like the consequence of stolen moments,
Disrupting the order of things,
It produces a void,
And a haunted memory of things
That can never be replaced.

Dead Whale – July 1, 2023

Saturday
on the southern side of the island,  
just past Leviathan Cottage, 
a dead minke whale washed ashore. 

Word traveled fast;
a steady stream of locals
stopping to gaze,
a sense of awe
permeating the landscape
of seagrass and rocks.

The shape and size,  
contours and textures
of the corpse, 
its briny scent 
not yet replaced by decomposition, 
and especially 
the grand stillness 
of this once living creature, 
emanates a peaceful spirit.

Beached in the bardo state
before body parts disconnect
and dignity surrenders to putrefaction,
there remains
in this plangent reverence
a reminder of what awaits us all,
and the hope
that we too
have lived in grace.

Nothing But Experience

Uncommon gestures and embroiled accidents,

Suggestions and half truths,

The rush to be home before dark,

Anything you don’t do yourself

Is hard to handle.


The fiction of our lives resembles dreams,

The importance of fighting for miracles.

There’s a lunatic pride in accepting that

It all starts with nothing but experience,

And for some,

A rich imagination.


Nothing?


Except being

Encumbered by crashing waves of

Chaos,

Conflict, 

Desires.


It doesn’t make any difference.

Shoulder the belief that 

when you escape your past

You’re not about to return voluntarily.

You’re not who you think you are.


Realize the number of imponderables in life.

And,

If nothing else,

Start with the glory of a summer evening by the ocean.

Nuclear Event

It is evening and I’m standing outside on the edge of a road leading out of a town that is unknown to me. Unknown because I have never been here before. I do not recognize the place, yet there is a sense of deja vu. There are no other people about, yet I don’t feel alone. I understand just what it means to be comfortable in your own skin. I find that I am comfortable everywhere. I think that maybe I have the good fortune to never be in harm’s way.

 As I look up at the stars there was a blast of light miles away from me, down the road and way out of town. It lights up the buildings, streets, parked vehicles and clumps of trees. The burst of light evaporates, leaving the night sky glowing with a hazy, putrid pinkish-yellow pallor. I hear someone say that it was an atomic explosion. Sirens sound and loudspeakers advise people to either wear their masks  or just not breathe. I don’t see any loudspeakers and do not know where that advice was coming from. People start emerging from their dwellings and making a a panicked and exaggerated show of donning the cloth masks once worm during the height of the epidemic. I don’t have a mask and find it absurd to hold my breath. 

I tell myself: Fuck it. I take a couple of deep breaths. I feel some relief from the tension and fear in the air. I come to the conclusion that I’ve lived long enough in this interesting world, that I had my fill of wonder and joy, and have no interest surviving in a world that is seriously compromised by a possible apocalyptic event. I do not want to live in a place where everyday promises to be a struggle. Nope.

I defiantly take some deep breaths and wait to see what will happen next.

Nothing does.