After the Wrap Call it the hypnotic pullof icicles holding courton a frigid window pane.It’s like watching time dissolveinside a Rothko expanse;a wordless haikuthat requires no translationin any known language. A speechless actordoesn’t need subtitleswhen zoning out with eye clouds;It’s a final print in empathy.A quiet affirmationof all that is understoodthrough the hushed crescendoof time’sContinue reading “After the Wrap”
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Closer Then
Closer Then It constitutes the lastgasp of a wordless haiku—peeringthrough snow drift icicles ona zen photographer’s windowpane in bright alabaster winter islike watching stars melt inside theexpanse of a late period Rothko. Ground German glass piercesthe fog of memory spirits—eachrecalled and submitted for reviewbefore imminent trial and sentencing. Like the actor gazing througha cigar hazeContinue reading “Closer Then”
Her Cameo
Her Cameo Idling away the incessant hourshere at night can often feel likeJimmy Stewart in Rear Window;minus the key grips and gaffers. We make do these days withslimline hand devices and otherneuro diversions—time crawls onas light hues change unnoticed. It’s a slow pan with tight closeupshot before cutting away to theseduction scene—in privé à présent.Continue reading “Her Cameo”
Visions of Orion Poetry 