
Barn Owl Up Close — Image by kenne
Clouds Breakup After Snow On The Mountains — Image by kenne
— Albert Camus
“Global Warming” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— Albert Camus
“Loneliest Highway,” US 50 In Nevada — Image by kenne
— Samuel Beckett
Sunrise On Wildhorse Trail (Saguaro National Park – East) — Image by kenne
― Paul Tillich
Thomas R. Turner (May 23, 1942–November 13, 2014) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
This posting is the sixth, and last, I will be sharing from a long poem written by Tom
sometime around 1980 after his wife left him. Today is the fifth anniversary of his death.
24 to Harwood and Cropsy: No Road Back Home
(Taken from a Brooklyn Bus Route and the Title of a Blues Album.)
The nuances between us were scattered with the January snows of Peter's arrival. Ambiguities, second starts and brokendreams were too Tangled up in Blue to Cut to the exact place on the page where our rhythm had Broken. I'm not that young any more. "Get off your stagnant ass and do something." The scenario years later would speak. The Pacific Northwest and a three quarter profile statement Echoing out Denny's window Why I never got a job during all those summers. Only the facts she put to me. I couldn't keep in step with the definitions you Dreamed. We speculated endlessly in different directions Whether our togethrness might might imaginable be framed From inside so that the usual connection between lover And lover and loved and loved would be interchangeable but Paradoxically unchanging. (For my benefit, I suppose) Was the fiction of my eroticism so damn necessary? Somewhere I glimpsed you Coming at me; balancing cryptic hats . . . Laughing comic confusion. Now I never see you anymore. The summers are much colder tha used to be In that other time, when you and I were young. I miss the human truth of your smile; The half-hearted gaze of your voice and all the things That you'll always be to me. Only thee is no comic relief Just a Curious translation of cracked nostalgia. But lets Skip the arguments. I already know how the story ends: A-not-so-crytic-message: Don't be naive You could only gaze into the distance at my life.
Thomas R. Turner (May 23, 1942–November 13, 2014) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
This posting is the fourth of several I will be sharing from a long poem written by Tom
sometime around 1980 after his wife left him. Today is the fifth anniversary of his death.
24 to Harwood and Cropsy: No Road Back Home
(Taken from a Brooklyn Bus Route and the Title of a Blues Album.)
Closely watched trains came and went without me without us I somehow missed you Eyes have a way. After love with my caliban sweat and noises A vacant resentment would knife From glares askance First seen in the pain of Vanessa-labor. And this is what happens when you love someone? Progeny and sunburn haired sensualness Prefaced Rare-Earth and a student nurse. The ideology of lesbos intimacy had Clandestinely raised its latent head. But it doesn't matter anymore. (You were the poet in my heart) 91st street was the end Wasn't it? Curious how our windows are always steamed-up On Autumnal days. (Was ANYTHING central?) The "is-this-all-there-is" syndrome sums up the Period: Existentialist discontent With a walk-up duplex decor. A matter-of-fact sexuality Presaged a psychic-incarnation I couldn't see. Lisa brought home a metamorphosis I didn't Realize. They cut your "tubes" after she came and that was that. Funny how I thought even then that is was All a matter of hormonal imbalance. Shit! And what about you? Paradoxes betray the limits of logic Not of the reality we shared. Your "passion" was stillborn though so damn necessary. A dissolution of absence into substance sucked Screaming through a Rimbaud-Day-On-Fire. I could't laugh enough for the Frivolity she needed but detested.
Sunset January 22, 2019 — Image by kenne
— Paul Tillich
Cactus Wren — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— Soren Kierkegaard
Poolside, January 15th — Computer Art by kenne
Poolside
— kenne
Mt. Lemmon Trail — Image by kenne
Each day I try to develop myself beyond the conventional level of existence. I transcend the light of being through threads of space and time allowing me to see truth in different reflections. Most people adopt on view for the sake of security. I prefer to use all views than to maintain artificial boundaries to have one view. By utilizing all views, I can know the truth in much the same way I come to know a butterfly, a wildflower. To do otherwise is to limit oneself to what is always true.
As I shift a point of view, I have the freedom to transcend any actuality which I may encounter. By doing so, I’m able to accept the freedom and responsibility of being human and become more authentic in my expression, therefore better able to actualize my existence. By being flexible in my point of view, I’m better able to include as much of reality as possible.
— kenne
Image by kenne
existence
kenne
Existence — Video by kenne
“The thing about Native American music
that a lot of people don’t understand
is the fact that it’s held in
such high regard for their culture…
while we live in a society where music
is something that involves a lot of technology,
they’re able to create something so significant in
our world with very little materials.”
— R. Carlos Nakai
(First posted, October 2009)
Suitcase — Computer Art by kenne
— Jean-Paul Sartre
“The whole content of my being shrieks
in contradiction against itself . . .
Existence is surely a debate.”
— Kierkegaard
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