Categories
Creative Life

Is It Real?

The truth or reality behind these two images is unknowable. I believe in a Cartesian view of humanity in which the phrase “I think, therefore, I am” indicates the isolate self, reaching to others that potentially exist, through the veil of Maya. The minute I captured the photograph on my mobile device, it left the plane of reality. The artificial intelligence rendering of it in a Monet-style impressionism is merely a variation of the original. The underlying reality of that sunrise is no longer knowable. Even I have only memories that have decayed for eight hours as I type this.

These images reflect an actuality I remember, yet not reality. Shakespeare famously had Hamlet say, “to hold as ‘twere the mirror up to nature: to show virtue her feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.” Perhaps Shakespeare assumed the mirror was a neutral conduit for reality. For purposes of an Elizabethan play making that assumption may have been necessary and fodder for audiences who knew otherwise to react.

Images such as these have a use in social media and blog posts. Those who followed my blog the last few months often saw sunrise photographs at the header. I post them on BlueSky, as well. They represent a shorthand of my experience on that date at a specific time. They are largely throw-away images even if some of them are quite fetching. The point I am making with this photograph and its rendering is a new day is dawning in which we can be better humans with new chances. That, too, is an interpretation, something worth hoping for.

I’m a bit infatuated with the image rendering capabilities of artificial intelligence. Of the five photographs I tried, only two were keepers, and then only for long enough to post them on one of the platforms I use. While that moment in which I captured the rising sun is no longer knowable, it was as real as anything can be. My Cartesian model notwithstanding.

Categories
Writing

Cranes

We mapped our house
   in a township
      with a lake
         and a preserve
            for native species...

Then structures came on wheels
   manufactured halves
      parked in a cul-de-sac
         while the foundation cured
            waiting the arrival
               of the cranes...

When the schedules converge
   on that day... in this plat:
      the dwelling,
         planned by convention and
            executed in compliance,
               is lifted in place...

May the process of completion
   the prospect of residence...
      engage and enrapture us...

Until when,
   if ever,
      in early light
         we are startled by waders
            lifting from among the water lilies.

~ Circa 1993
Categories
Writing

Round and Round

The sound of their tricycle on cement,
"Look Daddy how fast I'm going!"
Clockwise, now counter-clockwise
in early afternoon.

Round and round
pedaling, pedaling
looking at me
then gliding to a stop.

They are almost too big for it.
Soon they will need one less wheel...
Better to move around the expanding circles
until they are on their own.

~ April 21, 1991 in the Calumet
Categories
Writing

Tulips #2

Empty milk bottles, an empty wine bottle
and a salad dressing bottle...
filled with water and white tulips --
whose time will soon be past.

There is a dead spider in a milk bottle.
I remember those milk bottles
being left on the back porch, filled with milk.
How it was...

Contemporary life has changed.
We drive to the Stop N Shop to get our milk
in plastic jugs (#2 recyclable).
And glass milk bottles are the stuff of collectors
and flea marketers.

They hold tulips well.

~ April 21, 1991 in the Calumet
Categories
Writing

Tulips #1

I cut the white tulips.
They were almost gone.
Petals dangling down,
ready to fall to the ground.

They still smell fresh,
as flowers do... in the clear
glass vase
where I put them on my desk.

Others bloom now,
still others are yet to bloom
now and next year.

It's time I left them for a while
to multiply, and grow, and flourish.
Instead of transplanting them each October.

~ April 21, 1991 in the Calumet
Categories
Writing

Saturday Restlessness

I can't shake it...
Here with me is...
a feeling of tension.

I am okay...
I am going forward in time.

Yet I am restless
going forward in time...

Passing through cultures and societies,
accomplishing things:
doing laundry,
vacuuming,
or cleaning the closet...
all satisfying.

I washed dishes
and prepared burritos for lunches next week.
I have accomplished this.

But I need more.

~ August 3, 1991 in the Calumet

Categories
Writing

This Studio

This studio...
is a place for creative endeavor
is only a studio...
a place for solace
by my declaration...
from this quiet place
that it is so.

~ Sept. 9, 1990
Categories
Writing

The Work I Do

Photo by Yury Kim on Pexels.com
The work I do
is not for me

so much as it is for

the friends I have come to know.

The collages
The poems
The journal entries
The performances

Not for me.

The nuns taught us.

All for the honor and glory of God.

It is a lesson

that stuck.

~ Labor Day, 1989, Lake County, Indiana
Categories
Writing

Summer Arrives

Sawdust from the Peach Saplings
Summer came today...
Cool, windy, clear.

On the weathered picnic bench
I sawed limbs,
fallen during the storm,
into firewood.

A child stacked logs
on the deck,
near the gate
leading to the driveway.

~ Written while living in the Calumet 1988-1993

Categories
Writing

A Chimney Sweep Swept

Photo by Nick on Pexels.com
Black Coat, long cut, with a red flower in the lapel. Top hat rounded, and in good shape.
He hung it on the vacuum tank while he worked.
Come in.
Where is the fire place?
Move things around so there is room.
Lay out the cloth.
Bring in the drum-like vacuum pump,
Rods and brushes.
Move things out of the fireplace
Sweep, lights.
Point out problems with fireplace.
Clean up gear.
Take out gear
Sweep hearth with a hand broom.
Everything is done methodically.
Ford pickup with cover on back, ladders on top,
though he did not use them.

~ From 1984-1985