we didn’t speak
after comfort failed
and I thought about
bits of yellow paper
found in the dryer—
poetry: not right
poetry: a robin
sometimes the sky talks
not through weather
or shifts in light
but by peeking through
a crumbling roof
poetry: today
first day of school today
my nephew wore a soft hoodie
he hugged me near white roses
while my old friend sang
and played a blue guitar
i stood here before
and before
but i’m not the same
poetry: crayons
draw me another day
one where the doctor
didn’t make a mistake
i got the shot
and it worked
poetry: what’s that sound {again}
maybe it was chimes i heard or someone playing
a glockenspiel. it made me jump. like it always
does. it could be the man coming down
my apartment hallway holding a gun. no,
that was a nightmare. it was a knife at my throat
and i was at work. he told me he was jesus.
i am okay now. it was long ago. but i jump,
again, because what is that sound? it could
be the circus i saw out the car window. remember
when the performers fell? all that blood. no,
that was a nightmare, too. it was my son
being hit by a car. the police knocking.
his face was the blood i saw. his hands.
but what is this sound? wind chimes?
neighbor’s music? my son’s tv? i walk
around the house and light candles
because you never can tell
what’s that sound.
poetry: circles
circles became wolf.
wolf tears at hip.
hip turned to shreds.
shreds like glass.
glass bites palm.
palm bleeds to see.
Photography: San Francisco
A few weeks ago, I drove my son to the airport in San Francisco and a week later returned to pick him up. On both occasions, I took my camera along for some street photography with the goal of experimenting with composition and having fun. I once again edited these in a retro-style, but this time making them brighter. I’d love to know what you think and if you have a favorite photo.
Continue readingpoetry: bird talk
don’t yell at me
i see you just fine
from your perch
maybe i’m tired
or forgetting self
but don’t yell at me
Photography: Dillon Beach
“When to the sessions of sweet silent thought / I summon up remembrance of things past…“—Shakespeare
I’ve been thinking a lot about memory lately. About my memories. About creating new memories. About capturing them. I think memory is what attracts me to photography, the ability to freeze a moment in time. To capture a feeling. I have so many photos from the last few months, many of which I won’t post here. But these…I want to share with you.
Continue readingpoetry: begging blue
pretend with me
we’ve fallen under
where sharks cry
and birds laugh
i’m me
you are blue
nobody sees us
we hold hands
taste salt
breathe sea
sink through quiet
still the cold
break hips free
pretend with me
Bridgette Tales 