Tag Archives: Photographer
Photographic Memory Expedition
One would ask, “Wouldn’t it be lovely?”
Driving down gridded streets that sometimes wound East, then South.
Thinking of shutters painted contrasting colors, or perhaps altogether removed.
One imagines children’s summertime voices.
Carefree and popsicle glee, front sidewalks their territory.
As it should be.
One seems perfect there.
Small and yellow, with miles and miles of welcome.
Surely big enough for whatever weather.
Jimmy
This one standing always tall
Forged metal
To help the unheard
Be heard
My soul, now willing and briefed
Speaks still
My pencil, my shutter
Your voice
Why can I never