Taken in the Mekong Delta in December of 2015
DAILY PHOTO: Croc Maw
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POEM: Huck’s Typology
Huck Finn said he runs to pie,
[While Tom runs to mystery.]
That is the respective nature of each.
I, too, run to mystery,
but sometimes I stop for pie on the way.
And as I run to mystery,
I know that mystery’s end is misery.
For, if curiosity is one’s nature,
a resolution is always bittersweet.
Fortunately, the universe is relentless in its production of mysteries.
and it’s also fortunate that it’s skimping in its production of pie.
How does it know?
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DAILY PHOTO: Dancers in Red Light
DAILY PHOTO: Gingee Fort
POEM: Eye
A girl pressed her palms against her eye sockets.
Was she trying to keep her eyeballs from popping out?
Or was she trying to make sure something didn’t get into her eye?
If it was the latter, I don’t think it was matter she sought to keep out–
not grit, acid, iron filings, or any of the other nasties that get in an eye.
No. She was making a light-tight seal.
So, she was really trying to keep something out of her brain.
Light is just light.
It takes a brain to dance photons into a horror story.
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DAILY PHOTO: Three Metal Sculptures, Tallinn
DAILY PHOTO: Antharagange Hill
Taken on November 2, 2019 at Antharagange Hill, near Kolar
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POEM: Screams & Toast
Every scream is special.
There’s no such thing as
-a mundane scream
-a work-a-day scream
-a milquetoast scream.
Some things are like that.
Other things must prove themselves special
at every turn,
and against all odds.
Let me try to sell you on the exceptionality of two particular slices of toast.
Even if they are golden-brown perfection,
Even if they are crisp, but not desiccated,
Even if they are still warm enough to melt butter.
It is still just toast.
And, I wonder how much of mastering life comes down to the ability to
find a scream ordinary
&
taste olympian toast.
