Looking for God in a morning haze
On the water, is just a matter of phase
Finding my joy under a steeple
Is merely my context among people.
Neither fog ever stays.
Looking for God in a morning haze
On the water, is just a matter of phase
Finding my joy under a steeple
Is merely my context among people.
Neither fog ever stays.
Bridesmaid feeling under the gun,
She couldn’t forfeit her fun
Took out an ad and hired an actor
He more repelled than attract her
Just to fill her plus one.
Spinning toward a collision,
Words with incisive precision,
Tatter relationship’s future
Perhaps one night will suture,
But all that burns on is derision
Volunteers each stood tall
Knowing they might fall
When nations came to blows
We remember each of those
For all gave some and some gave all
I lie awake counting sheep
As you look alone ready to weep
And these things take their toll
So just please touch my soul
So we might get some sleep
Diving deeply seeking truth,
looking for a story to sink a tooth.
Grasping desperate at flying straws
Instead of reading and making laws,
Spending weeks in the scandal booth.
I wish I were posting today about my very successful trip to the Catskills to photograph a few beautiful waterfalls and their lush attending mountain forests. Alas I decided to postpone that jaunt due to the high degree of cloud cover predicted for the region. And so instead I’ve spent the weekend playing a few video games, running many miles and getting around to some business that had been eluding me.
This is often the most difficult thing for me to accomplish. The tasks that were second tier but are allowed to move forward by a hiccup on the first tier. Plans are a wonderful thing for those of us who have spent more of our lives procrastinating than doing. And when those plans get disrupted I feel uniquely challenged by my desire to get things done anyway. Here I sit, in time I had slated for driving down from the hill country to the flat and sandy shores of Long Island, unable to do that thing from which I had already tasted the thrill and triumph. So how is it that one makes one’s way back from a daydream into the reality of useful drudge work? After all, my love for entering data about and pricing prints of my photographs is not what drives me to take them. Nor is applying for juried hangings of my work with local arts councils. The fact that I keep running into here is that there is simply no way to casually make my way back from that daydream, for this work is completely and utterly unrelated to the dreamscape. Instead this is a process of ringing the bell at the change of periods, rudely rousing myself and setting off to plod through a lab period, where daydreaming over a colorless lecture is not an option. The really good news here is that its hard to emerge from the lab without feeling energized.
I do not, this evening, feel energized in the way that I would arriving home with a couple of CF cards from which will flow many additional hours of ecstatic work. Instead it is the slow and confident energy of preparedness. Necessary work was never my strong suit. This is me making a change, I suppose.
Tricky twisting spate of time,
When all you meet speak in rhyme
A lavish dream of things to come
On a road I work my thumb
But no one heeds my foolish mime.
You must be careful, not to over state.
And be up and ready even if its late.
Excitement curbed by a thick skin,
These things are never easy to begin
Now I only need to find a date.
You should not stay up late
Even just to commiserate
Don’t sip your flask or crack the cask.
In the morning’ nature will take you to task
And you know the sun is never late.