I love photography,
But don’t much like photos.
Clinging to memories;
Negatives–I don’t know,
Doesn’t appeal to me.
To future, and to grow,
Is preferred, honestly.
However, apropos
Of this–the irony
Is not lost on me, though;
Knowledge, maturity;
Photos offer windows
In time to the many
Circumstances that show
A glimpse: identity,
Gained ever thoroughly.
Thanks for reading.
-j
Ford Fairmont Wagon
Yellow
Webber on tape deck
Cello
Driving and you hear
Bellows
Four boys, and yet you
Mellow
Raised them to be good
Fellows
“The Mother Unit”
Hello
Love you mom,
-j
Today, I would like to offer up some context to the poem, because it holds special meaning to me. Its title is the date it was written–at the outset of arguably the toughest spell in my life, but nevertheless the period of most significant growth. It was a time marked by constant thought, and restless sleep; the latter of which plagued me on August 1, 2014: a relatively temperate night spent peering out the guest bedroom window of my wonderful, inimitable friend, Daniel’s, house. It’s the only haiku I’ve ever attempted. I hope you enjoy it:
cool summer’s eve
moonbeam
removes the leaves
Thanks for reading.
-j
I run
(not) for time,
(not) for pace,
(not) to any particular place;
I run
(just) for time,
(just) for pace,
(just) in my life’s particular place;
I run
(not) a step,
(not) a race,
(not) with any particular grace;
I run
(just) a step,
(just) a race,
(just) for my life’s particular grace.
…
(Not) time for a run.(Just) time for a run.
Thanks for reading.
-j
Songs listened to during composition of this post (Spotify playlist):
theisswriter: typing things. for me. for you. 