-
PARENTHOOD
Two headstonesName, rank, branchof service, dates. One New Jersey, oneVirginia, both Bittleneither certain. An email fromanother Bittle, neverknew my father but his wasWilliam, and inthat moment, James Owen becamea father yet againand I complete. And later stilla single picturehe in the back row and the mirroragrees that weare truly family.
-
WHAT’S IN A WORD
It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words, a pictograph usually five or fewer, and a word, but a single one by definition, while a word, with two exceptions, has at least two letters, and with the same two exceptions, a letter is always wordless but can be symbolic. The Hawaiian language…
-
TOUCH
I would reach out in touch you but as it is my fingers barely reach the keyboard. I would take your picture the next time I see you, but it would appear instantly, no waiting for someone to tell me as you were merely a blurred image appearing days later pulled from an envelope. Perhaps…
-
A PEELING
She says if you could only peel back the photograph, you could read the entire story that lies beneath. Is deeper than the image below which it lies trapped, and the wider, imbued with a meeting the image could not capture, just as, she says frowning, there are no words for parts of the picture,…
-
THE DEPTH OF MEMORY
In deeply hidden corners of my memory snapshots of my childhood reappear from forgotten albums. I want to know what was happening just out of frame, or in the next picture in the series but these negatives are lost and so I am left to draw my own pictures, write my own story, and accept…
-
TREACHERY
René Magritte was born and died in Belgium, neither happened on this day, but he painted a most realistic picture of a pipe, which he captioned “Ceci N’est Pas Une Pipe,” which of course it was not since it was only a picture of a pipe and he entitled the work The Treachery of Images.…
-
TAI YRA MANO MOTINA (THIS IS MY MOTHER)
It’s odd how your stature has grown as I dream of you occasionally staring at your yearbook picture. It was only four years ago that I knew you existed, but hadn’t the faintest idea of who you were, anything about your life, why you gave me up, and, therefore who it was I might have…
-
MANDALA
Day one, and they are hunched over the mat meticulously drawing faintly on its deep blue surface. Day two and sitting, leaning forward they precisely place the first grains of sand. Day three, the same and the picture begins to emerge though they dare not breathe. Day upon day, minute upon minute hours on end…
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
an old writer and his words 