I went to the Art Museum with my photographer friend. It was my second time seeing the Gordon Parks exhibit.
The first time I got so excited that I cried. I wanted to feel that spark with somebody who knew the underlying mechanics of the artistic medium.
He asked if I had noticed how Gordon’s self portrait was fading at the top. This type of print only lasts around 100 years or so, on average. I hadn’t.
But he really got me thinking!
The best things in life are experiences that fade even faster. Carbs, wildflowers, the electric connection of making new friends.
Humanity invented art as a way to capture and evoke the immense spirituality of fleeting things. To cherish moments in the lovely flow of existence.
In that way, a poet is no different from a photographer. An artist is the same as any local dreamer.
We just use various forms to barter parts of our soul.
the photographer (for louis)
humid
first of june
all the daisies
are in bloom
so i show them to you
bright white bursts
diffuse in the
overcast
evening
reflecting
in your
steady
lens
i like your smile
and the way
you know
how light
falls
i think about you, later
when the rain comes through
i climb the three-trunked maple
wet bark
and teardrops
against warm skin
i grieve to leave my home
where i know
the land’s
nuances
how could
these flowers
belong
to anyone
else?
you found a way
to give them
back to me
