that flimflams against soft curves,
swindles the honeyed tress
trying so to curl up
in a way that pleases?
A girl gets tired.
I'm for me
you're for you
I'm for you -
that's the end of that
peculiar equation.
(photo by Bruce Davidson, 1959. Coney Island.)
4 comments:
I haven't mentioned it yet, but I really enjoy these kinds of posts.
Do you find the picture first, or do you already have this written and then you look for the photo?
Thanks Huck, that's heartening, because I wasn't really sure about them (not much commentary, and I'd prefer crit to nothing), but felt I should keep experimenting.
I found the photos first, then saw it as a response. I never meant for them to come out in poetic form, but that's the way they want to be, I guess. I write them very quickly, or seem not to write them at all - there are a few sitting unposted, and I'm not happy with what I put down. Those photos are so great I should probably just put them up by themselves. Just hope I don't get in trouble for the copyright issue, because there are so many more pictures...
The idea came from two sources - one, I read Unremitting Failure every day, and I don't know but imagine that he often stumbles across an image that inspires him to wrote. I was amazed by some of the photos he posts on his blog. The second is that one day I came across the photo of the man running across the water by Bresson (Feb 22). My immediate thought was what I wrote in the first lines, to paraphrase, 'what if this was all you knew about the world.' Then I thought that could make an interesting (to me) series, as if each photo were an archeological dig, and your only evidence of human beings and the world is whatever comprises the image. I had intended to make each post start with that sort of phrase ('what if this was all you knew'), and I intended it to be prose.
But then as I pulled photos, I found other things were coming out, and in a sense I think I'm still performing the intended exercise, really.
I'm glad you like them. They please me, especially because they are really emotional reactions for the most part, and probably something that triggers some part of my memory, though none of it is literal autobiography. Maybe things like these tickle the limbic system, the dream center, and then the 'story' comes out. Whatever the source (and usually it feels like it doesn't even come from me at all), I'm totally enamored of the photographs, which certainly helps. You should try it...
I like these posts as well...can't really say why I haven't commented, other than as an effort not to be an idiot and...
Really liked the image from Earth Day, the two girls embracing as all Hell was breaking loose.
This picture makes me think of an old old 50's Film I saw when I was a kid..."Carnival of Souls" or somethin'like that. Actually, i don't think saw it because it was on "Nightmare Theater" that came on at 2:00 in the morning and while I was attracted to the title, try as might i usually fell asleep before the movie came on.
A boy gets tired.
Okay, I feel like a dunce (nothing new). I had no idea you were writing these poems. Girlfriend. For the hundredth time. You got mad skillz.
I love this poem.
Post a Comment