not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

my lens is dirty, sue me (our lenses are always dirty)

this poem is unclean
it can't help but be
it is like this with linen
and dust jackets too
and skin
it is like this with skin

i have touched this poem


  1. we was born unclean... we will die unclean...

    we touch everything...

  2. Erin,
    And now i have touched it too...the picture as always...splendid...mysterious and almost crawled until my skin ...

  3. you are incredible true and i like poem and pic so much

  4. liz)))) it is our duty to touch everything.

    manik, it was a foggy morning. it entered me too.

    laura, i'm glad you like it. i began to work to take the dirt out of the photograph. my camera is desperately in need of a cleaning but then i realized the dirt was important, as it is always important how we touch things and change things and how things touch and change us.



"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))