Magic of the Moon’s Surface

Hands gliding over the surface,

The reflection calm and cool

Diving into the depths from the heights

Slipping beneath into the water’s warmth,

Waves rocking against waves.

At night, the sea always rages

But never forget the unpredictable

Nature of the tides, ready

And able to become stormy

At a moment’s notice

Though subject to the pull

Of the moon’s gravity.

Floating high amongst the stars,

Her light shines bright in the night

Full and round her globe

Pulling tight against the ocean

Calling her, beckoning her home.

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The Insult

There are some people, when passed on the street, for whom a single glance seems to be an insult; the photograph then becomes a superinsult, the ultimate insult.

This would define the stature, the physique (and the myth) of the street photographer, the reporter: a bruiser, a brute, someone who can stand up to the insult hurled back at him, heavy and awkward, blind, desensitized.

– Hervé Guibert, Ghost Image

Ghost Image

It is said that the purpose of a family photograph is to preserve memory, but it creates images that take the place of memory, conceal it, and are a kind of respectable history, unnuanced and interchangeable, passed from one family to the next with the vague hope of leaving a trace for future generations. Not a literary history, but a superficial history.

–  Hervé Guibert

Long after you are gone

Long after you are gone,
I feel the presence
of where you used to be.

Together, you and me

I can still remember
The first day
I ever saw you
Standing there so
Self-assured
I filled with such doubt
Of who I was
And could yet be
But you always knew
Always could see
That part of me
I could never set free
Until the first day
I ever saw you
Standing there so
Self-assured
I was filled with such awe
Of who you were
And what we could yet be.
Together, you and me.

Unmoored

Such Envy, I have.
For those with no doubt.
For whom life’s plan is clear.
A destination, clearly, seen at the end.
For those who walk on level ground,
Stable ground with no pitfalls or detours.

Such Envy, I have.
For those with no questions.
For whom land is their constant companion.
A horizon of luscious land, no sea within sight.
For those who never experience the terror of being
battered to-and-fro, alone, in a storm.

A Question of Self

Three women sitting down together
Each discussing their lives
All are separate yet
All are the same.

A three-sided mirror sits
Each face waiting to reflect
An image.
The first face – always uncovered
Catches the sun’s rays
To send out to the world.
The second – sometimes uncovered
In only the deepest silences
Always alone despite the crowd.
The third – never uncovered.
Its face, unknown even to its owner
Who sometimes always with
The greatest of trepidation
Gathers a moment of courage
To grab the corner of the cover
Intending to pull it back and reveal
What lies beneath.
Only to stop at just the last moment,
Each and Every time.

Three women, three lives.
Three mirrors, three images.
Two lies and one truth, or
Three truths and no lies?

Two creatures walked together, hand in hand,

Two creatures walked together, hand in hand,

One a mouse, the other a man.

If given a choice to choose between the two,

Always choose the mouse, it’s better for the health of you.