don’t dream whisper
you’re not allowed
frogs simmer there
snails wander shell less
Photography: Sunflowers Instead of the Moon
This last full moon was fantastic, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been struggling lately to greet the moon. It’s no secret I’m having hip issues, so the end of days are kind of hard for me. So, instead of full moon photos, I hope you’ll indulge me with these sunflowers and the farms around the area.
I’ve been photographing people so much lately, it felt good to chase some bees around. Let me know what you think and if you have a favorite image.
Continue readingpoetry: cup of haikus
Women Are…
“The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.”
—Vincent van Gogh
“Being different isn’t a bad thing. It means you are brave enough to be yourself.”
—Tigger
For the month of August, I’m lucky to have two wonderful women to share with you—Anna and Bella. I photographed this mother/daughter pair during sunset at Dillon Beach. They had this fun idea to be old fishermen, and I absolutely loved it!
Continue readingpoetry: shadow
i, who elements shape
find myself fault lined
crackling scorched earth
barbed wired veins
mirage burned horizon
marrow splitting
ocean starved
teetering here—
shadow upon dirt
catching the wind
*61/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. All photos are mine.
poetry: missed focus
it almost rained yesterday
on the house we almost bought
with money we almost had
where flowers choked the hallways
and words swung from the ceiling
where labyrinthine cats uncoiled
through endless open doors
—but it sprinkled instead
poetry: dream cat
you used to come mewing
whenever i stepped outside—
a neighbor’s cat
who claimed my space
poetry: motherhood
poetry: still.
poetry: august 25th
plucking piano keys, i picture
you, sitting on my couch.
purple sweater, chocolate cake.
your laugh, like rumbling joy,
lives in my walls.
today marks the day we said goodbye.
years ago, holding hands until cold.
i play the only song i know:
Jolene, about being chosen.
you loved Dolly.
both hard workers—
rhinestone and cleaning gloves.
she left us today, too,
splitting my grief.
out of tune, i sing,
your beauty is beyond compare.
gathering kindness into notes,
remembering.
developed.
your smile is like a breath of spring.
capture. photos. frame.
grit.
moving across the room,
i gather my camera.
holding it with two hands.
my happiness depends on
what i do next.