DUST JACKET PROJECT

atanga rain

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 14:19:23 -0500

atanga rain

shared experiences

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 12:20:47 -0500

shared experiences

This is a photo of my taxi on the way to the airport, he was...

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 10:47:52 -0500

This is a photo of my taxi on the way to the airport, he was crying as he told me about his journey with God

Photo

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 10:08:41 -0500

Photo

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 11:48:54 -0500

sometimes you have to take a step closer. never be afraid to...

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 11:22:15 -0400

sometimes you have to take a step closer. never be afraid to really look.

Photo

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 12:39:52 -0400

Photo

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 12:04:44 -0400

Mustache Hero

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 10:12:27 -0400

Mustache Hero

Photo

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 10:53:05 -0400

Kissinger

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 15:04:55 -0400

Kissinger

the morning with yellow flowers, when I have to hold my...

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 11:46:25 -0400

the morning with yellow flowers, when I have to hold my breath
because of allergies and nerves.
tunnel through the chain link,
under the mist flashing neon in the gravel

you decorate me, defile me into us,
please, and I wont burn our coffee.
I poured my sin in there, I said, I said,
I said with you in my palm,
in the little creases in my palm that look like broken trees

Decided Truths

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 03:30:54 -0400

Fog drips slowly from the branches,
A cobweb mask hiding all beneath
The twists and turns that memory
Shapes. The dew solemnly bequeaths
The truth as a choice to each pair
Of soft, shadowed, silent, staring eyes.
Beneath their heavy lids, blinking and
Unfazed the pupils fail to recognize
The vastness of the insurmountable
Task that lies in wait. Whispers waver
Through the air, and each tremulous voice
Breaks over the dead silence. The fate graver
Than foreseen, for in the eyes of humans
The past, the future, and the secrets
Held therein, are at the mercy of emotion.
Beneath the layers of emotion, the past forgets
That it was not as is told, and the future
Builds itself into impossibility. The fog,
Ever clinging to the branches, lends itself to
This perfect disguise. Reality appears a homologue
To the mystified utopia. The eyes have left
The truth to be forgotten, have spent their chances
Creating fantasy, so into shadows the truth withdraws
To lie with whispers in the fog laden branches.

Rain

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 11:19:43 -0400

It is raining but I can’t feel the heavy drops because I am standing beneath a tree, the leaves are shielding me from the wet. I can hear the rush of the fall wind, filled with moisture and restlessness; it spits stray drops into my hair, my face, my eyes. My glasses are fogged up so that I can’t see to recognize the face of a friend less than an arm’s length away.

It is raining and I am soaking wet. I am not standing under the shelter of the tree, I am waiting, in the open. As I wait the rain works its way through my cotton t-shirt and my suede shoes, sculpts my hair into a strangely combed Zen garden, wipes the mascara off my lashes and leaves it smeared on my cheekbones instead. I can feel the restless winds pick up as I wait.

It is raining but I no longer notice the drops because I could not get any wetter if I tried. My t-shirt is transparent and my shoes squish and squash with every step I take. It is a slow, patient rain now, waiting for me. What it is waiting for and why, I do not know.

It is raining and I am warm and dry and not contemplating another trip outside at least until the morning. My suede shoes are drying as am I; my hair leaves a damp patch where it rests, the Zen garden now combed into manageability. I can hear the restless winds whisper as I sink into bed, a different kind of soaking seeping into the cotton of my t-shirt, into the flannel of my pajamas, into the cold side of the pillow as my cheek traces leftover mascara onto the clean white. I settle into the dry dark and let the rain, rain.

It is raining and I am asleep, vaguely aware of the gentle rustle of the restless winds as I dream, letting my mind drip-drop from reality to unconscious. I am in the damp, foggy thick of life, waiting for the rain to come and go as I study patterns in the weather/clouds.

Photo

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 11:17:14 -0400

Dad and I

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 11:55:45 -0400

Dad and I

Photo

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 10:37:43 -0400

Photo

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 11:28:35 -0400

Photo

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 12:00:46 -0400

Photo

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 10:42:21 -0400