I don’t want to photograph

at all a space

that’s too big for me.

[it’s a small empty studio

with a shaft of white light

that comes down from

the ceiling &

flares out at the bottom

like white robes.]

I can see it,

don’t want to ruin it,

in my mind’s eye, in my mind’s eye.

I move the mist off

the mirror

wipe clean refracting light;

on a gallery wall, captured

I glimpse a face reflected

in a glass darkly, suspended, in a frame

I say ‘same old,

same old, [the ancient made-in-the-image-of?]

fancy meeting you here.’

Everything’s a dance…

sea noise

white foam salt

water overlaps

my tideline

I re member you

Star flung constellation that you are

Scattered

Figure and form

Pulled up from the ocean floor

I begin, I can only begin,

To map you

Your mysteries

I describe you

And so describe my own longing

Oceanic

The space between our coastlines

An expanse inside and outside our delineations

And the water lapping at

Our shores.

my ship is burning

the garden cordoned off and

guarded with a blazing sword

wood burns to cinder

autumn turns to winter

and so the earth turns

autumn burns to cinder

wood turns to winter.

life turning over

in a vision of smoke

And thus it rises.

Suspended I

Floating I

Caught up I

We find ourselves

The community of all

At once dirt

And the breath of God.

Where my feet fall

Is ground

Of being

Pushed upward.

Animated.

Living and moving

In glory and

Pure air.

your face is eyes-closed
as i wait to double-click
and speak to you.

You’re the reason
I’m awake
I am thinking
Of giving you
Pears and oranges
To make you happy
In that sleepy
Kind of way

all i ever wanted to do
was have the sun inside me
embrace the sea.
keep praying, she says,
because this is good.

They waited at the street corner,
then quickly ran across the road the
way we would seek to avoid the rain
as we made our way up the main street -
they, the sniper’s bullets.
Theirs was a big, hard,
heavy, thick war
that cramped the bones
in his fingers.
She loved him &
was taken away saying,
'Pass my error onto Kovak.'
in earnest love.
Her song was now just
echoes on the hills
As he touched the page to feel
her last contact as she disappeared.