paper bag

© Zoe Wiseman- Todos Santos, MX

so he says we're all the same

only the names have changed

repeating the monotony

i'm excited in my calm

between the strokes of madness

and pill popping candy show

and we converge on this point where all trains stop

stop motion video watches every move 

as we sits idly by, watching time fly

she will tell you the way, when you stop to listen

she's been there before

and returned with more than just the right answers

truth

i overhear his beats pulsing mildly beside me

bored in my bound paper bag

and watching as he exhales

this hole is just small enough 

to let the last remaining breath escape

unkept

still held

careful

©CNirvana

model: the ever perfect Red~

I only drive too fast on roads that require attention

great care to swerve to the right

then back to the left

debating with this necessity to slow down

watching carefully as the arrows point in the wrong direction

maybe I am a figment of your imagination

but sometimes I feel far too real

this trajectory for all others

stagnating the one who needs it most

I put myself to bed for fear of need to sleep

and as the clocks fall back

my dreams fly forward

I'll never hold you again like that day

almost perfect

© CNirvana

so I concede to ride in the back seat, hands crossed neatly in my lap

lazily laid back 

with the wind of the night air blowing the delicate curl past my ear

it feels good

brushing against my cheek

tickling the nape of my neck 

those delicate tendrils

I miss my fingers in your hair

and as the doctor tells me so

I lock myself in the bathroom,

whisper only to those that can hear

and bid the world goodnight

the only one I need will

never leave

perfect still doesn't exist

gone so long

© BB

sitting sipping all the wrong flavors 

and filling spaces, not intending

moving through the paper cup to the 

lips, mine

yours

waiting around for you

again

and still perpetuating this line of focus

holding the fill line to the point of spillage

tip the cup

and it all over flows

sorry to keep you waiting

i know you always will

follow me home

because this song tells you to

and try as we might, we will always agree

on the right tune

you caught me

©CNirvana

random stream of consciousness
pause
when you actually start to listen, i start to not say

here's how it works...
ready?
set, go

i don't know what more to ask for
all that you give is all that i get
just what i need and
all i could want

poignant song on repeat
yeah i'm talking to you

i cant hear you through
all my distraction
but you are all that i am

windswept

©CNirvana

~Sophie~

this gentle blowing breeze dropped me 
right in front of you, purposeful intent


making momentary monumental seem like already forgotten 
she watched me walk away as i began
falling behind on making forward progression


this noise you make, like hissing air
let me fill your void
that one you never knew was there


we missed the show, as we always do
not to worry though
the encore is always more satisfying

believe the hype

©CNirvana

ever had the moment when you know your world will change?
ever felt more connected to a person based on a single sentence?
ever learned a lesson that you thought you didn't need?
ever tripped and fell and realized the bruise just didn't hurt?
ever changed a life?

pick one.  or try them all...

Still reeling from my workshop with Joyce Tenneson, one of my photographic idols and an amazing teacher.  One week of my life, kick started the rest.

to be continued...

the photograph

This week i surround myself with like minded artists and talent grander than
words can surround.  I'm continually inspired by the images i see and
intrigued by the stories behind them.  Any photograph that i remember 
for more than a moment, has a resonance based on the 
emotive impact that it holds for me.  


Tonight I sat and watched an immensely, emotionally charged
presentation from Sam Abell,who's work i've admire since his 
National Geographic days.  Iconic is a word that could describe 
the imagery he produces.  But more than that, is the fact that he's an excellent teacher.
Possibly one of the best 30 minute presentations I've seen thus far
in my life.  


He showcased some of his most widely published shots and paired them 
with the shots leading up to the one.  Watching the light, changing the angle, waiting for
that perfect moment.  


"Setting, expression, gesture.  That's all there is", according to Mr. Abell. He proves it with
photographs that literally brought me to tears.


He also touched on his book, "Stay This Moment".  
Titled, based on the reference of Virginia Woolf's words, "If one does not lie back and sum up and say to the moment, this very moment, stay you are so fair, what will be one's gain, dying? No: stay, this moment. No one ever says that enough." 


A truer statement, never there was...


Above all, it's hard learning to live with vivid mental images of scenes I cared for and failed to photograph. It is the edgy existence within me of these unmade images that is the only assurance that the best photographs are yet to be made. - Sam Abell, Stay This Moment : The Photographs of Sam Abell by Sam Abell


I leave this note with no image.  tomorrow i may have created one worth showing.


For more info on how to work with the masters and explore the spectacular beauty of the local countryside, check out Maine Media Workshops.   I can say with just a taste so far, its worth it.


Thanks LK.  You mean the world to me...

quiet

©Yoram Roth

NYC

the orchestrated flow of sound

gently fills the air

as all the night owls 

close their eyes

the world is quick to fall asleep

inconsequential dissonance breaking up the quiet

so we wait for dawn

another day

when all the noise will go

away

these words slip out without a sound
with hesitated awkwardness making pause
i know you've missed me
yet this distance still grows

farther now, yet close between
just one more reach to
take it all away

this telephone cord that binds my ankles,
cutting that all important flow
one more step and i may fall

twisted merriment swimming in swamp water
with that lasting phrase flipping circles in this shallow pond

where does it all stop
and when does it begin?