Rainy Day

Monk in RainGetting up in the morning, rolling out of bed, finding everything to head out to the beach to take some morning photos… you can hear the rain slap the metal outside like a drummer with bad rhythm.

You go anyway.

Sometimes braving the rain gives you some great contrast shots – sometimes it gives you the muted colors of a sunrise through clouds and an empty beach, with no stray humans running into your frame, drawn as if moths to light. Sometimes you get the best shots this way, by going when no one else will.

And sometimes, like this morning, it’s just haze grey at the beach with the spray from the waves merged perfectly with the grey clouds – a harmony of monochrome that lacks any frame of reference.

Sometimes, it’s just a rainy day.

That’s more life than most people understand.

Some of us dare to get up every morning and go look.

Kangaroo Queen

Unsure of herself,
She sits quietly,
Waiting for some
Large Intellect to
Swagger in,
Sit near her,
So she can
Pick a fight,
Prove that
She can hold her own,
Prove that she can
Beat something, beat

In battle, she sees no losses,
Accepting no referee to judge,
She scores to win,
Wins to score,
She chalks it down
On that board in her head,
Moves on,
Loosing the war of peace,
In turmoil,
She promotes strife,
Strife for herself.

Fighting done, she
Feels victorious,
Sits, enjoys her
Counting that which
She took from herself.
She smiles,
Has another breve,
Lights her own cigarette.
She sits alone.

Written in the 1990s… I wonder whatever happened to her.


Peter Cushing in The Skull (1965)

Sitting here, the truth seems easy to come by –
Everyone here agrees on new friends by
Casting votes, pointing out characteristics
In personality, in person,
In judgment and
As the very magnifying glass shows these flaws –
The magnifying glass goes both ways,
And the object you study is
Counting your blinks,
Noting your eye color
And the scars upon the glass,
The eyes
And the heart behind them.