“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

9.07.2010

once upon a time a friend spilled coffee on her stove & it dried in the shape of texas

i flipped this image horizontally
and
almost i can't tell what it is anymore,
so used to seeing it only the one way,
and there's something to be said about that.
i am probably -
no, not probably -
i am without doubt the wrong person to talk about seeing it,
whatever it is,
from another angle.
i even laugh at the "reverse angle" videos in televised football games
(do they still do that?),
because it just is what it is,
and it doesn't really matter from whence you view it,
nothing is changed,
those football calls are seldom overturned,
and that fan up there blows cool air no matter which way it's turned,
as long as it's plugged in and there's electricity and nothing is broken.

that's what part of me thinks.

there's another part of me that thinks if you just look long enough
or maybe just glance from the corner of your eye,
everything is different.
that if you stand still long enough, the shadows will give you wings.
that standing on boo radley's front porch
is all you need to see inside his heart.
that enough football calls are overturned
to warrant views from every angle possible.
there is a part of me that understands
pablo picasso,
georges braque,
cubism,
a part that knows the red queen had the right of it
when she could believe six impossible things before breakfast.

i learned photography on a camera that reflected everything
backwards,
have taken pictures with one that showed me the image
upside-down;
both were wrong and right at the same time.
i know the reversed reflection of candlelight in a mirror
is as bright as the real thing,
and
able was i ere i saw elba
says the same thing front to back as back to front.
this past weekend,
i watched the white stripes of the road
flash on-off-on-off
in the black reflection of a boat towed in front of me,
on-off-on-off-on-off on the lower left hand side,
the stripes blinking back at me for miles and miles of highway.

there is a part of me that knows it is all smoke and mirrors,
but the smoke drifts through my hair
and later i smell it on my clothes,
and i have seen the mirrors break.

7 comments:

  1. and now it is my turn, to come here, my last stop before bed.
    first of all, thanks :)
    second of all, whew. you blew me away, so much that I will come back to read this again tomorrow when I am not so tired and twisted up in knots.
    but i saw it, saw it all. wonder what I'm going to dream about tonight?

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  2. Beautiful. You could make a grocery list poetic, I do believe.
    Brenda
    P.S. I have started another blog that is about photos and words, two of my very best friends. I do believe it was you who inspired me. http://afairyinmygarden.blogspot.com

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  3. ...it was the White Queen who believed imposible things...I love the White Queen.

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  4. Thank you for sharing what you saw. I will view my day entirely differently now.

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  5. I often turn things over and over to try and see whatever the thing is from every angle, in order to truly see it. Other times I take things at face value. I've never been able to apply any rules for what gets analyzed and what gets left alone.

    I reread To Kill a Mockingbird twice this summer and watched the movie again. You are right about Boo. In the movie, at the end, Boo is hiding behind a door in Jem's room, and Scout's face lights up when Atticus introduces them ... she breathes his name in a whisper filled with awe. It's the moment that makes the movie for me. Scout knew his heart before she met him, but meeting him was a confirmation of all that.

    *love*

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  6. Yowsas.
    All that you write is so publishable. If I were an editor of a book company, I'd be offering you a contract.
    This is what I would call, 'smokin'!

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  7. Can I be you, just for one day?
    Pretty please??

    You teach me how to see.

    ReplyDelete

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