Entrance to Jackson Station (10/19/02) — Image by kenne
October in Double Bayou puts a sort of easy wisdom in the air. The water moves slowly, the herons mind their own business, and the road to Jackson Station looks like it has carried more stories than pickups.
A man would be a fool to hurry through such a place.
West Texas Wind Turbines — Photo-artistry by kenne
Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon Like a carousel that’s turning running rings around the moon Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!
on the island of if, the shrimpboat captain dreams of geckos climbing up cave walls, catching them & setting them free.
when he wakes up in the middle of the night, & stares out into a sea of dwarf foxes on the dock, their eyes glowing from the light of his lantern, he climbs back into his bunk and asks himself, how to build a stronger memory? he closes his eyes & sees red algae becoming sea sponges becoming neptune grass becoming brains of corral.
‘We pledge allegiance All our lives To the magic colors Red, blue, and white But we all must be given The liberty that we defend For with justice not for all men History will repeat again It’s time we learned This world was made for all men’
