Behind | A Cheeky Sonnet

Paris, possible the Louvre, 2001ish, 35mm film photo (photo by the author)

Oh bum thou often subject of fine art
Whose shining cheeks would gleam out of the stone
Your symmetry has captured many hearts
Whose charm lies surely not in form alone
A cushion fine for man to sit upon
Your graces hid beneath a garment’s shroud
Yet not a welcome sight out on the lawn
And not fit to be seen among the crowd
The seat of punishment for naughty child
A paddle makes the tears fall swift and hard
Yet after meals of beans so meek and mild
Sweet air transforms the moon into a bard
So long as legs join hips and man can run
So long will we salute you, graceful buns


There’s a story behind this, of course, that includes me wanting to write a sonnet and asking the youngest member of the family for a topic: thus began my series of body sonnets! You never know when inspiration will sneak up and pop you on the derriere.

Funnily enough, this is the only poem of mine that was ever curated on Medium. It was also the start of what became a series of Body Sonnets, which in turn became a series of cyanotypes, and then became the second half of a book plus an exhibition and WOOHOO I did a reading at the opening!

Here’s the book

And here’s my YouTube where you can see me read a couple of the poems.

Ground

Big Bend National Park | 35mm color film | photo by author

In these languid, hug-free days
of strictly enforced distance
my head against his heartbeat
delivers the echo of my footsteps
on the road home
this small act of communion
is the ground that brings me
back to my reference point
current passes between us
telegraphing messages conducted
through physical connection
this, my safety plane
providing the earth for my system to rest upon
the circuits click with the press of lips
transmitting positive voltage
from an infinite source
a little spark
to light the world


This is a poem from 2020, and here’s the caption I wrote for it on Medium, which – sadly – I feel is just as relevant as ever. Here we are a couple of years down the line, but do we really love each other? Did we ever? Can we ever? .. . . . . What the world needs now, is hugs, more hugs . . . . . I heard something from someone, sometime about how a hug that lasts more than 3 seconds builds up trust. I am looking forward to the day when I can hug my friends in greeting again. Right now, I’m just thankful I have a couple people in my house who are (mostly) receptive to hugs and snuggles (this may or may not include the cat).

PS today is the man in the photo’s birthday – happy birthday to you, love of my life!

September

Caddo Lake, TX, Nikon F and Kodak Tri-X (photo by author)

Cleopatra rolled up in a rug
smuggled in to see Caesar
worming her way into infamy
Every day the light is changing
Slyly summer transforms
little by little into autumn
such small moves
we hardly even notice the fall


I realize it’s not quite the right time of year for this poem, but my copy-paste-repeat diligence from my Medium archive knows no boundaries and doesn’t care about the calendar! So here you go: musings on September in April. Thank you for reading!

Name changes — The Hermit Crab Tank

Yoooo first post with the new design I feel like I should probably come up with some excuse for the fact that I said that I was going to change the website a bit and instead not only changed it entirely but also changed the whole story it was originally for, but… there isn’t really […]

Name changes — The Hermit Crab Tank

Updates and design changes – more like a total overhaul – of one of my fav blogs! Check it out ^^^

Between the Golden Bars

From a bird in a gilded cage

Medium format film, South Congress, Austin, TX (photo by the author)

Pecking at the walls of invested desire
Feed the well a doubloon
It spits back an ingot
Vaults of piggies full to the brim
Generations of interest ensured
But coins in the mattress
Poke holes in retirement
Green paper walls
Tear and burn
Between the golden bars
Gleams a life with all the trappings
Luminous bowls in the lap of refreshment
Halcyon hours around the table of plenty
Midas knew the bright clink of the lock and key
Moments after his request was granted
Watch him as he measures
His radiant empowered days


J.D. Harms on Medium is a talented writer, gracious publication guru, and an endless wellspring of interesting prompts! This one was on idioms: I texted my daughter for one to write about, and what she sent me was gold. Y’all go check out JD’s work, and thank you for reading!

Titles | Self Imposed Definitions

Shadow self portrait, 35mm film, at Big Bend National Park (photo by author)

I am the Queen
of being wrong
The Princess
of loss
An Expert
at shelving my dreams
I wrote a thesis
on the disappointment that comes from the misplaced hope
that people will change for the better
I have conquered
the fact that standing up for myself or others
always gets me punched back down
I’m an Absolute Pro
at failure
My confidence is excellent
at being swiftly annihilated
I am the Boss
of no one, and nothing
What I say goes
except for in reality
I win again and again
at the being-humbled game
Everyone listens to me
when I am the only one in the room
I could care less about people’s feelings
and doing the right thing

but then I wouldn’t be me


This poem is part of a set I wrote in 2020: 3 at 43. “Personal Geology” was the first, and this is #2. Wrestling with myself on a daily basis is just a part of my life. Who’s with me?

Thank you for reading!

Interconnected

Cyanotypes on cotton fabric, made on the beach in June 2020

On the beach making prints out of the treasures
washed ashore and the sun with the moon reflecting that light
pulling the tides I think of the fabric how it once
was balls of cotton planted by human hands
grown from a seed in soil that might have once
been an inland sea little plants blessed by the sun
green leaves kissing the air of the field
with oxygen maybe it was once
covered by thick ice now melted the water re-entering
the cycle returning to the clouds becoming
slush that flowed into rivers the rivers reaching
rushing always for the sea becoming
steam rising falling again as rain returning
to the sea the sea that nourished the clams
the fish that fed the gulls and pelicans
who dropped feathers onto the sand into the surf
the sand that sheltered the crabs the sea whose salt
waters washed the fabric held by my hands
hung up to dry in the same sun that made
the print that evaporates the water returning
it to the sky and then to the earth to nourish
the soil to grow the cotton all over again


World Cyanotype Day is the last Saturday of September, and the theme for it in 2020 was Interconnected. The cyanotypes you see at the top of the post were made with that theme in mind. WCD itself is very close to my heart; if you’re interested in learning more please visit the website (linked at the beginning of this italics text) and / or check it out on Instagram.

Roads

Color 35mm film photograph, made through the windshield, in Colorado | photo by author

Some are long and straight
roads you can fly down
wheels hovering on grains of dust
runways crisscrossing the high desert
kicking you west

some are barely roads at all
gnarled and humped
as rheumatic knuckles
roads you have to traverse at a crawl
dragging your belly over rocks
through potholes lined with cacti

some roads are alive
with sand dancing
snaking patterns from the dunes
whispering wishes carried
back into the sea

in the mountains roads are rivers
some raging wide
and fast through canyons
carving their way through
cities that perch above the clouds
tributaries meander
through high passes
laugh and weave with
meltwater streams
disappear into aspen forests
run breathlessly into flower filled meadows
make a slow descent
winding into valleys
until you are drunk with the journey
all your old bolts
shaken loose
eyes open, windows down
hair blowing wild
heart stuffed full
with the beauty of everything
the roads can bring you


I really, really love road trips, and I am super fortunate that my other half loves them too, and loves to drive, so I can photograph out the window and daydream. Thank you for reading! This is yet another from my Medium archive. . . . .

Personal Geology

Ondu pinhole self portrait made with Ilford FP4 film

Some days
I am
strong, firm
a mountain rising
from the rich strata of my years
There is no past
No abandoned bedrock
No memory
Only now

Other days
the mighty hammer falls
breaking
off a cliff
exposing evidence
of suffering’s transgression
sediments
hidden
beneath
that would be ripe
for erosion
if I would let them surface

Concealed
my mantle boils
awaiting metamorphosis:
time, press the layers together
transform them
bond them
with the fingerprint of glory
shining at my core


A self portrait poem. Thank you for reading!

Colorado

Colorado, made with Nikon F and Kodak Tri-x | photo by author

Stellar’s jay
a western tanager
red bellied hummingbird
cruising by like a tiny bomber
yesterday a hawk
soaring through the binoculars

the herd of buffalo by the road
regarding us without interest
deer in the parking lot
in Alamosa
crossing the streets
like they own the place (they do)

chipmunks will eat
right out of your hands
there’s a squirrel
who goes off like a laser
gun every morning
shots fired at dawn

take care
don’t leave out food
to attract a bear

robin redbreast hops along
even at twilight
loathe to see the end
of another wild day


Wildlife is one of the fun bonuses of camping (for us, anyway), and Colorado has treated us to plenty of it! Thank you for reading.