Strange fascinations

 

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Conversion

 

You were the Moon

And I the ocean

Your gravity pulled me in waves

Around the Earth

Inexorably towards

The point in space where

Heartlines cross

You pulled me upwards in tiny drops

Until the all of me

Hung in the air beside you

There we shone like polished silver

Until all the stars went home.

 

 

Words and image are my own.

 

©2017

 

 

 

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The Melting Point Of Wax

 

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Unlikely bird

 

My heart was a tumbledown shack

In the black hills of despondency

My spirit a beat up old Ford

Spinning its wheels in the soul sucking mud

Every day my mind went fishing

In the empty stream of unconsciousness

Each night the bugs made a meal

Of yet another piece of my misbegotten soul

The day came when I finally railed

Against the helpless hopelessness of my futility

I climbed the mountain then and looked out

Across the endless peaks

And there, atop a pinnacle of stone

I saw you staring back with that same wild look in your eyes

I knew then I must learn to fly

But unlike Icarus

I would keep my head

I could not fall

There was no place left to go but up.

 

 

Words and image are my own.

 

©2017

 

 

 

This is the day

 

One life ending…

 

No rain will fall today

No tears of regret

For past mistakes

Nor painful memories

From distant skies

The sun will smile down upon

This circle of hope

Glint brightly from these rings of completion

There will be smiles

Tears

And shaky voices

As the ghost of the old school principal

Watches on from the windows

The banished spirit of past longing.

 

 

 

 

©2017

All we ever look for

 

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Heart transplant

 

And so here I am

Transplanted

My roots reset

In richer soil

I spread my arms

My weary limbs

Gnarled finger branches

And drink deep of the air

The sweet breeze

Has a taste

Not freedom

Not quite

Replenishment

Rebirth

That will do

Well enough

 

That will do.

 

 

 

Words and image are my own.

 

©2017

 

 

 

 

Kingdom of days 6

 

Stone

 

One of the reasons I wanted to go to Princeton was to see the amazing photographic exhibit on display at one of the many museums to be found there, Morven House. Six of the most prolific Springsteen photographers, his sister Pam Springsteen included, in a combined exhibition showing some of their finest portraits of The Boss.

This exhibit runs until May 21st and I highly recommend it. There are quite a few shots that I personally have never seen before and there’s the added draw of seeing some familiar classics printed large and in high quality. The setting is somewhat incongruous, a colonial house full of Revolutionary war relics and fine art paintings and sculptures but the available space is used well and I geeked out for a happy forty minutes or so.

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Speaking of art, it was a bad day to be a monument in Princeton. A band of jolly japers were going about putting googly eyes on statues and monuments, sometimes to devastatingly humorous effect.

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Literally Hitler?

 

Not all of the monuments suffered this ignoble fate, however.

 

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We next visited the Princeton Chapel. This is a very deceptive name for a place that looks like a medium sized Cathedral. Inside, it is quite beautiful and we sat for quite some time listening to some invisible organist play eerie music fit for a Vincent Price Horror movie.

 

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For the rest of the afternoon, we simply wandered around the grounds enjoying the sights and imagining what it would be like to attend such an institution. Though, I did make a little side quest to the Princeton Record Exchange, which I found to be excellent indeed, lots of treasures to be had for a very reasonable price.

 

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Once Jersy girl had finished with work, we were all ready to head for home. I was impressed by how willing the kids had been to spend eight hours on their feet just sightseeing but now they were definitely done and happy to pile back into the car. I felt tired too but my batteries had certainly received a full charge from the sights and, more specifically, the ambience of this impressive town.

 

Words and images are my own.

 

©2017