I make photographs and poems to please myself (and share them to please you).
it was a place
of refuge
for those who
broke tabu.
you'd run for
your life
and you might
live another
day or two.
maybe a priest
would instruct
you in the error
of your ways.
and if you learned
your lesson,
you might live
out your days.
my world is
much different,
places of refuge
are few and
hard to find.
symbolizing
friendship and
nothing else,
yellow roses
are a message, not
always welcome.
she wanted red
roses always,
from everyone,
(symbolizing love).
she wanted
yellow too,
finding that
money helped.
the world could
be her party,
with many
shouts of joy.
she'd have liked that.
party all the time.
until it ended.
she will be missed,
by somebody.
open gate
propped up,
leans on
a fencepost...
evil fences
and walls
divide us;
keep good
people out,
keep good
people in,
evil fences
imprison.
evil people
try to rule
the world.
their lies
amaze us.
fences:
a tool of
enslavement.
an open gate
is a good thing,
many gates
stay shut,
and keep good
people in.
under a blistering
tropical sun,
suffocating heat
drove us to
find shade,
we found a
beautiful tree,
and shade.
that day we
found the beach
with no name,
where only
locals ever went.
visitors could
go elsewhere,
to famous places.
we went native,
and benefitted
from local
kindnesses
and friendship.
ten thousand feet
above the sea
a fallen tree
can't rot away.
its bones are
bare and stark
we see it lies
a dead thing,
as we gasp
for thin
and icy air
we understand
how the tree
came to fall
ten thousand feet
above the sea
broken bamboo
tops lie in a heap
on top of
fibrous roots,
a wind-storm
smashed that
bamboo grove.
we find the scene
exotic and a
little alien;
this is not
our world.
years and miles
pass by too
quickly we
will learn;
a jungle cataract
falls from a
towering cliff,
its source
a mystery we'll
never solve.
this bamboo
doesn't care;
it grows again beside
sweet lacey ferns,
a warm wind blows.
we came so far
and see (that's
how it goes).
rain drops from
sudden clouds above
as we drink it in,
the gods are
making love.
roses: a claim
certainly to a
kind of love.
dressed up to
show someone
some kind of
sweet emotion
wedding or
funeral, this
feeling is alike,
a dozen roses
means the same
as one, but costs
a lot more.
friend or family
resting in a box,
or beautiful lady,
cute as any fox.
roses: a claim
certainly to a
kind of love.
dressed up to
show someone
some kind of
sweet emotion
a beach
with no name,
where the lava
flowed down
to the sea,
a secret place,
not on any map,
but a friendly
local told us
we should go.
such a quiet,
private place
in paradise!
no other tourists,
we listened to
waves smashing
on lava rocks
the sound of
seabirds and
the south pacific!
a beach
with no name,
where the lava
flowed down
to the sea,
a secret place,
not on any map
under the cedars
BX creek washes
a very tiny world.
we step carefully,
leaving no
footprints,
witness to
our passing.
like ants, we
walk our
pointless paths,
insignificant
in many ways,
and like to think
ourselves so
important.
but we are not.
a lttle water
washes
rounded rocks,
the cedars know.
that water is
essential.
we need it too,
cleansing and
refreshing,
some kindness
to our souls.
Solitary Skeleton
under all the
conifers, i see
a lonely skeleton,
and understand
part of what i see.
i myself have
a solitary aspect.
my bones
carry my flesh;
my body carries me.
a day will come,
no doubt,
when i too,
am stripped
to bone,
like a mushroom,
which i still
don't understand
in full detail.
and though we all
want company,
my day will come:
i will be solitary,
and go meet the
beautiful light.
