A place to come
Only to move on
To make plans
Buy provisions
Only to move on
To make plans
Buy provisions
A beach head
A landing
A portal
A gateway
Category: Monuments
The Art of the Audience
Some works of art remain incomplete
Once the artist has let them go
They need the touch of the audience
Their insight and influence
Meeting Lenin
Sometimes I sit and think about
The men hist’ry treats with greatness
Often with the best intentions
They philosophize false witness
The men hist’ry treats with greatness
Often with the best intentions
They philosophize false witness
They script the creeds
Direct the deeds
They lead a people
To their fate
Or is it ‘fate’ created?
End of the Trail of Tears
“My original convictions upon this subject have been confirmed by the course of events for several years, and experience is every day adding to their strength. That those tribes can not exist surrounded by our settlements and in continual contact with our citizens is certain. They have neither the intelligence, the industry, the moral habits, nor the desire of improvement which are essential to any favorable change in their condition. Established in the midst of another and a superior race, and without appreciating the causes of their inferiority or seeking to control them, they must necessarily yield to the force of circumstances and ere long disappear.”
~ Andrew Jackson
My Muses: Ruins
What I love about ruins most is the gestures of grandeur or utility they once were, the stories of their use, of their place in a time and society which no longer exists. I love them for the markers of history they are, here, now — in the present — how they act as transporters to another time, another place.
Never Turn Back
Sometimes, it seems
Life just keeps throwing curves
And every step of the way
Seems uphill
Or into the wind
Life just keeps throwing curves
And every step of the way
Seems uphill
Or into the wind
Still…
The Gateway
I sit beside the pool
Camera on tripod
Watching the light change
From sunset, to dusk, to night
Camera on tripod
Watching the light change
From sunset, to dusk, to night
On a calm, breezeless evening
Not even a shimmer on the reflecting pond
My mind drifts
With the passing of time
The Grace of the Blue Swallow
Sept. 18 – 1997
Greetings traveler:
In ancient times, there was a prayer for “The Stranger Within our Gates.” Because this motel is a human institution to serve people, and not solely a money-making organization, we hope that God will grant you peace and rest while you are under our roof.
Pix to Words 