New Movements

I wish I could just walk into photographs. That's what she said to me, flicking through the album.

It is hard to believe it's been a year. And a year later the same expectation lingers in our eyes, on our clothes, waiting breathless for that summer that floats and settles into days of long shadows into the twinkling evening.

In the dark we'd search for christmas faeries, arms linked and dog leads in hand as we admired the houses.

During the day we'd go for drives around the cliffs to the cool blue ocean, and hide in the hot sand.

This year we should go into the city, and walk the pavements, and buy icecream by the fountain, she said quietly, shutting it.

je suis symmetry

making coffee
i hear a bird, a girl
look out and fall into
a perfect moment

this symmetry of reality
meeting photography

this matching number
of day, of month

elves, it flashes through
my leafy mind, and also,
élèves.

today, je suis symmetry,
i say to the sparkling room
and wait
for another word door
to open, somewhere
in my mind.

~

cold delight

Man, what a sunrise today. Overhead that infinity of black and the amazing moon, the crescent so bright and the orb so dark, strangely like a yin-yang. And the god who made maxfield parrish was at work in the east, with such subtle colors low on the horizon, a mixture of blazing daylight in India and hot African deserts blending into the green of Asian terraced mountains and the aqua of Mediterranean shallows before plunging into infinite sea deep blue. Ah. A cold delight.