In between posting new paintings, I’ve been playing with combining my photography and poetry. Here is one inspired from a photo taken in a Buddhist monastery in Myanmar, when a kitten jumped up into my wife’s lap.
Poets have no special talent.
We stand on the same ball of dirt as you,
spin around the same obscure star.
Like everyone else, we are
just are trying to close wounds.
Only our method involves taking notice of
the small, ordinary things at arm’s length
and turning them into love affairs.
Describing them with words that
have been turned inside out
so that their soft centers are
now on the outside.