here will be new beginnings
some sort of prayers
not even kneeling in the sand
and some Thursdays with cold hands
a past, a present
in the dim light of some
fragile nights
a returning trip
and open windows
here will be new beginnings
some sort of prayers
not even kneeling in the sand
and some Thursdays with cold hands
a past, a present
in the dim light of some
fragile nights
a returning trip
and open windows
So much in the photo–texture, the near and the far–comes into the poem (as you no doubt planned). And yet the poem is more complex and mysterious.
From the beginning, the words come first and I then try to find a photo that match them, or I am inspired by a photo and try to express what the image evokes.