Moon In The Garden

The mask comes off
Compliant to hide
Without shame
Or justice

In a world
That now looks like
An old western
Stage coach robbery
By the masses

We should all
Wear black hats

At this stagecoach stop
I find fences.
Like masks,
They let in a little light.

There are spots
Of floral beauty.
And up above
The moon grins wide.

Falling into a trance
With camera in hand
The transformative flush
Rushes through my brain
Like waves
Crashing on the beach
Cleansing out
The sticky muck
Of stress

The garden
The light
The moon
And I

The camera allows one to dispense of reality, and create new realities. An abomination for many purists. I have never thought for one second that photography can make one pure. Neither does its practice originate from a pure place. That does not make it impure. Seemingly a contradiction, only for those with chains and closed minds.
All photos are in-camera multiple exposures.

The Set:

Simple Knowledge

We have been paralyzed
Dismembered from reality
From fear of the worst
Of things unseen
Yet knowable

Our spark
Sends us running
Armed with knowledge
We police our neighbor’s stupidity

We will save ourselves
From this calamity
Then fall like leaves in autumn
Into a collective sigh
Of relief

Until next season.

I am not one to disobey governmental edicts. It has been many months since I have visited my favorite photography spots. Still closed. The span is over thirteen years that I have lingered in its forests and rejoiced by its waters edge. It is a place to decompress and come alive. Well….it was.
Soon I hope.
It is with simple microscopic knowledge that we have come to know viruses a little. Mixed with our fear of death we go straightaway to our basements and hide like mice and become mob-like. “Experts” are all over the place arguing and changing stories. Acknowledging we know very little, but just enough.

Nothing’s Happening

It was your decision to plant the canna
Placing them strategically throughout the garden
Technically, the root is edible
But we will never eat them

So in the harvester’s mind….window dressing
Any flower that draws the pollinator
Is welcomed here

I sat in the garden
While nothing was happening
I noticed the dozens of little butterflies
Flitting with frenzied effort
Looking for mates
Looking to lay eggs
On our green bean buds

West coast butterflies floated
Like reluctant autumn leaves
Refusing to drop to the ground
They too, searching for pheromones
The promise of larva
Rummaging our summer squash

Just there
Between the orange of the red cape honeysuckle
Falls the light blue of plumbago
Like the waters from a distant mountain.
Within their marriage
Dwells the wasp
Searching out nectar
And the eggs and larva of the butterfly

Yes, nothing was happening
In this micro environment

Then, this little hummingbird came along…

the moment:

You Can’t But You Will

The bottle wasn’t opened slowly
It’s head was broken off against the bar
And slammed onto the counter
Ready for a fight and retribution

All manner of foam came pouring out
Curses and laughter, anger and joy
Mixed to make the bread of life

Like the sudden release of tension
Of the bow’s taut string
Pulled and aimed for so many days
A thousand messages in one blended voice

Who cares about America’s 4th of July celebration? Well apparently, many people still do. After being instructed not to assemble and restrictions were re-instated, many people made it clear they have had enough “prison” time. Many people in my area had purchased fireworks and displayed their own mini-shows of appreciation (full-on aerial rocket type). Interesting, since fireworks are illegal in any form in my city.
The city still did their show, they just asked that everyone watch from home. So we did. That, along with the full moon, the mask-less gatherings, the hoots and ahhhs of delight, all made for an interesting evening.