No Other Colour

no other colour
in the rainbow,
looks like this,
unless, maybe
it's all of them.

he sees it all:
black and white
and greytones,
but not too many.

eight tones ansell
said there were,
enough to see
everything
that there was.

now i see colours 
when i print my
pictures, that he
never saw in his.

hope for the
impossible;
accept what 
you get, 
with thanks.




Old Pumphouse

you can see it here,
a pumphouse beside
a swampy lake.

a few years ago,
it looked like this.

a pumphouse decays 
into wet earth.

time does not
cause our decay;

we need no cause;
it happens anyway.`

eventually the
pumphouse 
will crumble,
beside the lake, 

as will we 
in our own way,

beside our own
swampy lakes, 
at our own
particular times 
and places.

remember those
angry dinosaurs!

very few of them 
left, i'd say.

the old pumphouse
was there a few
years (not long) ago.

and tomorrow?
I'll just have to
look for new
interesting things,

to photograph
and talk about.

Bouquet 7

saturn's rings
are little things,

torn apart 
by too much 
gravity perhaps.

no levity would
help, i fear.

sometimes 
it is like 
that here.


love and laughter 
sometimes coincide.

and when they do, 
magic may happen.


stuff like love 
and floral bouquets
can be storied,

stories unto
themselves.

we dare not ask;
we do not really
want to know.


saturn's rings
are little things,

torn apart 
by too much 
gravity perhaps.






Red Deer River Valley

Red Deer River Valley

here was an ocean
an ancient 
shallow sea;

great creatures 
navigated there
before you and me.

archaic things
swam in sandy
bottomed shallows

sailors in ancient
places, where we'll
never go again.

buried bones
have turned
to stone

millions of years
went sliding past
it seems so long;
it goes so fast.

here are bones,
when fleshed 
and live,
swam by 
so long ago.

we see them
in museums,
learning little.

Unknown Tropical

into the unknown, 
we venture, 
each day.

some things are 
discoveries, 
pleasing 
in every way

flowers in 
tropical gardens, 
brighten memories,

of a time before
today's plague
descended on us..

whatever disaster, 
things can be 
much better
than we want
to admit.

our thirst for
knowledge is
like orange juice.

we can only 
take so much
after all.

so there we sit,
feeling a little
bit foolish,

with a two litre
jug, barely touched.