Archive for the ‘Black & White’ Tag
Fenceline: “The Look of Things, Left What We Felt” — Image by kenne
A Postcard from the Volcano
Children picking up our bones
Will never know that these were once
As quick as foxes on the hill;
And that in autumn, when the grapes
Made sharp air sharper by their smell
These had a being, breathing frost;
And least will guess that with our bones
We left much more, left what still is
The look of things, left what we felt
At what we saw. The spring clouds blow
Above the shuttered mansion-house,
Beyond our gate and the windy sky
Cries out a literate despair.
We knew for long the mansion’s look
And what we said of it became
A part of what it is … Children,
Still weaving budded aureoles,
Will speak our speech and never know,
Will say of the mansion that it seems
As if he that lived there left behind
A spirit storming in blank walls,
A dirty house in a gutted world,
A tatter of shadows peaked to white,
Smeared with the gold of the opulent sun.
— Wallace Stevens
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Saguaro On Baby Jesus Trail — Image by kenne
Lots of big boulders
On the Baby Jesus trail —
No baby Jesus.
— kenne
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Kids — Image by kenne
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Take me back, way back
to the quietness
of a summer evening,
watching the moths
circle the lights,
when I was young.
A time when
everything was
black and white,
when I was only
beginning to test the gray,
where Jackson’s filling station
was the center
of what was happening
in my world —
a place where I could
get what I needed,
before I knew
what I wanted,
but still meet my connection . . .
take me back
in the nighttime
I still hear the moment,
the moment,
the moment,
take me back,
take me back.
— kenne
Images by kenne
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A Stroll On The Mall — Image by kenne
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Electrical Service Connection And Turbine Roof Vent — Image by kenne
32.270209-110.860703
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Rooftop Television Antenna — Images by kenne
32.270209-110.860703
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