poetics of space

A few pictures I've gathered over the past year (of space), & some thoughts to accompany them (the poetics :)



In a classroom in an Ugandan orphanage, dreams quietly crescendo from wall to wall, swinging humbly in an alphabetical whisper of one-letter prayers.




Space of the mind. Knowledge is one of the greatest archistructures known to man, albeit metaphysical. Some of the Ugandan schoolteachers we (Fount of Mercy) met believed the path to a national hope's fruition lay in their youth's education. But how can these visionaries expand their libraries, when the availability of books is paltry in their own country? This sub-modest collection of schoolbooks sitting on a rugged frame of wood and chicken wire is wealth and riches to these children beyond our American imaginations- we, being accustomed to throwing out books past their vogue, libraries and bookstores overflowing with an abundance of paperbacks and thoughts. We can share our wealth.




One of the most beautiful spaces I have encountered in New York City. On a summer walk from Soho to the Lower East Side, I stumbled across this trove of oddities. This is my vision of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man's basement room- but not as glum... Lamps, bulbs, light fixtures of all kinds spanning the decades rested their rusty limbs just footsteps from the southern corner of Houston and Bowery. A collection of preserved specimens sat in a shadowy corner of the room in jars, undulating in size according to the beast it held. The glassy vessels caught the sleepy income of light trickling in through a dusty windowpane, illuminating and casting shadows among the delicate carcasses. The shopkeeper was nowhere in sight, so I snuck some pictures to remember the moment and the light...





My friend was visiting the city and was staying at an artist's loft in Williamsburg. This is like.. a little opening created by the building and its neighbors. The light was incredible that day, but the weather was freezing!!!




And sometimes... I feel the greatest space can be the space between human hearts.
(this photo is sideways)

There are many things that keep one from writing.
Among them, fear, sloth, confusion, unmentionable yet worthwhile excuses, or a simple lack of effort.
I'm afraid I've suffered from each.

There are many things that keep one from loving.
Among them, fear, sloth, confusion, unmentionable yet worthwhile excuses, or a simple lack of humility.
I'm afraid I've suffered from each.

There are many things that keep one from dreaming.
Among them, fear, sloth, confusion, unmentionable yet worthwhile excuses, or a simple wound from a hope deferred.
I'm afraid I've suffered from each.

There are many things that keep one from adventure.
Among them, fear, sloth, confusion, unmentionable yet worthwhile excuses, or a wilted perspective of horizons.
I'm afraid I've suffered from each.

There are many things that keep one from honesty.
Among them, fear, sloth, confusion, unmentionable yet worthwhile excuses, or simply being lost.
I'm afraid I've suffered from each.

There are many things that keep one from love.
Among them, fear, sloth, confusion, unmentionable yet worthwhile excuses, or a simple lack of courage.
I'm afraid I've suffered from each.

In the melody of a broken record,
The chorus rang in dissonant harmony.

parched and ashen heart,
you've made your home in the desert
your lover led you out of the tomb
and into this foreign land.
it's a long, long distance relationship
He's written you letters lush with promise
you inscribed His word upon your bosom like a mantra
in the silence of this barren expanse.

He's shown you beauty in the joshua trees.

oh parched and ashen heart,
your lover is gentle
"A bruised reed he will not break,
and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out,
till he leads justice to victory."

eight thirty in the morning
a coffee, a cappucino
two egg sandwiches
a strawberry peach muffin
two weary souls,
an old brother-in-law named James,
his book in a big black book
(that belongs on a pulpit)
two cents.

someking

the sun was different a couple of days ago.

gently settling on the backs of wanderers
the sky was blue at peace,
the light was calm,
reminded me of home.

(how much longer before that snaggle toothed grin
will be covered by a retainer of snow
that turns to slush and rots its beautiful smile.
crooked teeth of clay, i will miss you when i leave.)

canary seemed almost white
glowing against that misty gray
sky, veins of luminance slubbed through the thin
membrane of the sign on the street corner

on the street corner sneaky sparkles snuck their way
onto awnings like bats hanging in surreptitious silence
hearkening the arrival of something, or someking maybe.
someking forgotten in a manger. something to be praised.

something to be praised. i felt the poison seep into me
after taking one sip. one sip a long deep sip sinking into me,
i felt its fingers crawling into my chest into my neck into my head
bloodshot i thought i shot my thought with thought rotted

thought rotted as it settled in my head and finally reached my mind
but i kept sipping, i let it soak, soak into the wrinkles of my brain
until the mud brimmed black, but you lifted me up out of that mire
with your hands, your big strong hands, first to redeem me, then to fashion me.

fashion me pretty. yes,
i want your pearls
i want your jewels
gimme your gold

gimme your gold for it does not glitter
it shines.
funny,
not what i expected but i like it like that.

like that, well not like that, i want a fortune, just not like that
i want green to be grass, i want sweet to be the envy
that falls on me, because i want more than she, than he.
but those words leapt out of my mouth and crashed like glass.

like glass, like the glass that's between me, the trees
the trees that lift their arms up, stretching because maybe theyre
not stretching but pray-sing. praising that someking that sonking
who met me there, behind the glass, the other side from the trees.