World’s finest grain at four hundred speed
film, película, pellicola
Radiant strip of gelatin plastic
incasing the pattern of dawn curtain light onto craning neck.
Photography holds the visual, holds the flashes permeating your eager irises.
Poetry is for holding the pattern of your heart in your chest
for holding the way flaxen curtain beams feel as they drip like honey onto your waking skin
Poetry is the open palms of a child grasping for dandelion seeds in the wind,
reaching for how it feels to be alive.
Poetry is a still pool of water questioning what is reflection and what is object.
Poetry is the art of breathing and trying to remember how it is and why it is that you have kept breathing.
Poetry is the art of kissing something in the back of your brain that you need to be able to love.
Poetry is the part of the photo between the negative and positive
the part of the photo you can never see, film of ink and human emotion.
The hungry jaws of a lens for your being, a lease for your life.
Silver halide crystals for the human soul.