Central Presbyterian Church from the State Capitol; Taken in February of 2012 in Atlanta
Atlanta First United Methodist (L) and Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Jesus (R) from SunTrust Plaza
DAILY PHOTO: Church across a Lawn, Atlanta
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POEM: Falling
Oh, I can feel the force of your allure.
It tugs my chest, and I am leaning fore.
Have you bent space and time to your contour?
For I fall into you, not down to the floor.
But feet, they fail, anchored in place by nerves,
so I cannot escape toward your force.
Tumbling to a place past knowledge can’t serve,
and time, it fails to flow or rejects course.
Drifting in this dark and humorless void.
Can I salvage this perilous tumble?
Or cruise space like an aimless asteroid
by lack of grace being ever humbled?
As I regain footing and state of mind,
I find that we’ve become somehow entwined.
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DAILY PHOTO: Rhino
Taken in December of 2012 at the Atlanta Zoo
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POEM: Animal Observations
sitting on a stone
-grassless
-hopless
and you call yourself a grasshopper!
I know I shouldn’t, but I anthropomorphize.
I can’t see this orangutan without hearing the words,
“Ya borin’ me!”
play in my mind
parents lunged to cover impressionable eyes,
but someday they will be adults
who wonder about the mechanics
of how baby giraffes get made
Dear Flamingos,
Stop hiding your heads.
It freaks out the tourists,
making them think there is a pile of heads in some other corner of the Zoo.
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DAILY PHOTO: Memorials under Autumn Skies, Andersonville
Taken in December of 2011 at Andersonville National Historic Site / Andersonville National Cemetery
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POEM: Neighborhood Rhythm
Hear the “schwoop-CLACK-schwoop-CLACK” of an automated loom playing in steady, relentless repetition. It’s an iron machine, but listen to those wooden parts clap against each other, the hardwood timbre. Note the metallic jingle, a subtle accompaniment. Strings, stretched out like the innards of a piano, ironically, remain silent as the tune plays around them.
Walking, one picks up the rhythm from one building to the next, wondering whether the machines are in synch, or if your mind deceives you that they play one tune.
All else, the horns and hollers, sing in discord.
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DAILY PHOTO: Flint RiverQuarium
Taken in December of 2011 in Albany, Georgia
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POEM: Crossing
Walking into the river,
sliding chin deep in the waters,
pulled, thrashing, toward the channel,
riding the rim of an undertow –
like astronauts slingshot around the moon.
Fond memories invade my mind,
steeling me for a dire fate,
but I’m ejected at the bend.
Clawing mud and gnarly roots,
I come out on the other side.
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DAILY PHOTO: Candid Monkey Portraits, Lopburi
POEM: Thinking
I think,
but without Descartes’ insistence that I am.
In fact, the more I think, the less confident I am about knowing what “being” means.
I think — without knowing,
and recognize the hazard of that condition.
It’s what got Socrates killed.
A smart person who claims to know may raise hackles,
but is dismissed as arrogant.
It’s the smart person who admits he doesn’t know…
[let’s hope I’m not wrongly classed among them]
… that’s the one who arouses murderous intent.
For what hope exists for priests, professors, or politicians —
or any of the many oracles of our age —
when the most astute confess that uncertainty is inescapable?
What airy sands are our castles built upon?
And, yet, I think.
