FOR NOTHING ELSE BUT TO REMEMBER

In 1980, the French literary theorist and philosopher Roland Barthes wrote Camera Lucida, an exploration of the nature of photography and his process of grieving the death of his mother. In his theory, Barthes describes two aspects of a photograph that create interest: studium and punctum. [continue…]

WHY DO I CREATE?

What is it about the process of creation that makes me create more? that makes me fear that what I create isn’t good? that makes me compare myself to others? that leads me to a better understanding of myself? Why do I create?

It’s easy to overthink things. It’s easy to ask yourself “will other people like this?” instead of “do I like this?” [continue…]

Why Do We Create?

We are social beings

seeking acceptance for who we are,

but rarely stop to share our true selves.

We’re stressed about being the best,

appearing blessed not depressed,

so we suppress the rest to impress. [continue…]

Avenge

The cast iron 

crew flew with their captain

in the tempest, downtrodden under thunder.

The ship wrecked and drug deep, their lonely hulk 

rusted and coated in seaweed as dark as a pitch black

midnight. The sun won’t shine again on their crusty eyes. [continue…]

Shimmer & Shade

With tired toes gripping soggy sand,

with stretching eyes glimpsing the morning’s

salt soaked waves cascading over, 

washing over suntickled skins,

with calloused psalm kiting bamboo and silk,

knowing nothing but unworried worries, [continue...]

Summer is

always the best with you, Dad, back in PA: 

inaudible yard work conversations 

while running two mowers and two blowers 

until the humid air forces leaves the wrong way 

as the storm moves in. [continue…]

The B Poem

Boom! Big boys barge in, bell bings. Boys brought dough to buy bread that’s been beat and binned. It’s a bustling bakery. The bus boy: “Baker’s busy baking a batch, boys.” Big bellies banked on breaking bread, but the basket’s barren. [continue…]

GLAZE WIZARDS

       Awwww geez

   The suited hazmat crew     lazy

 Dressed white     cozy through a screen     hazy

     Zooted     dozin’ off with that fix

   Oozey     hexagon drips [continue…]

Seven Billion Souls

Some wear rings and roses / some wore rags / sum = war scars // US lucky—phew—will be / stuck / inn a groove / while / others lay cot ‘n gyves / all because some won / made profit / the prophet // [continue…]

06.06.1944

To see the ocean waves shimmering like glass, 

I run o’er rock and spikes in sidewalk crabgrass, 

With feather feet that glide ‘bove blist’ring heat,

Of sunburnt desert mounds hot like volcanic ash. [continue…]