Photographs

I have not posted in some time because I have been at a seminar in Toronto, which has made for some long days.  When I go to Toronto, which I do only under compulsion, I leave very early to avoid the traffic.  I prefer to spend an extra hour or so in a cafe once I have arrived rather than spend even an extra fifteen minutes on the highway.  So, for the last three mornings, I have had the chance to write for more than an hour without interruption. It almost made the commute worth while.

Most of what I wrote was for other tasks that I need to accomplish, but I did take the time to write some poetry, which is one of the things that gives me much pleasure. Though I would not call myself a poet, and though I am almost always dissatisfied with what I write, I revel in the writing of poetry nevertheless. The piece that follows is the one that embarrasses me least of those I wrote these past few days.

Photographs
The photographs are level,
though the wainscotting is askew,
afloat on the wall.
Its straightness is immovable.
When all else melts,
Pictures hang like this,
on the void,
fixed,
like hard-edged moons,
like cornered memories,
exactly so,
petrified in the solid air,
for everything they touch is stone.

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1 comment
  1. Katerina said:

    lol “the one that embarrasses me least”
    I understand this.
    “Poetry and dancing are two things I cannot do”

    it’s mostly the embarrassment factor.

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