I forgive you for being a pompous Windbag and using words like “nexus” That make us, and you, feel smarter Than we are. I forgive you because You’ve got to sell windy books Somehow to equally windy people And breezily walk the edge of Overblowing it without, oops, I Overblew it! You had to prevent us Muffy and Buffy poetry reader Types from seeing too much of Ourselves at that blustery “Nexus” of blew and blow And putting the book down And closing our handbag flaps And whistling as we walk away.
My wine glass is a coffee mug with handsome Houdini painted on, tied up, cuffed, dipped upside down in cold water. He’s got a face like he’s sure he’ll get free, like if he doesn’t, he’s sure he’s at least immortal enough to be reborn one day on a mug in the next millennium.
Houdini’s wine mug is tricky. You pour the cheap stuff in behind the antique-colored, faux posters, and the wiry escapist slips his bonds without a twitch.
Or, to be more accurate, the bonds slip him. The handcuffs disappear, the straight jacket undoes, the lung-crushing water drains into the polished black scrim that works the inside of the cup, into the pulse-lulling red that sloshes behind it.
The bonds dissipate, almost, and slink their way down my esophagus— a rain of deconstructive intoxicants to ensnare the presto hands and abracadabra body of the guilt I carry, at the bottom
I’ve had almonds today and chocolate and dried cranberries and French press coffee and a bit of a ham sandwich and real butter on real bread. All signs point to the blissful Elsewhere being right here in my cabinet with the chocolate
and nuts. Swimming around in the French press before being all smashed to bitter oil and wakefulness. Shivering in the fridge in an off-brand baggie. Baked in an industrial oven. Treading lukewarm water in the blue porcelain butter keeper.
I had fun with this one. I used a fish eye lens—my first successful experience with that. I played with the color a little in processing, but most of that is the natural light that comes in my office through the dark pink drapes.
I did a lot of selfies first, (the one below I like a lot), and I seemed to get a good bead on “depression” which is certainly a darker side of me, but I think the sad arrogance I got in the first photo is far more on point when it comes to personal darkness.
Sort of weird to start the year on the dark side, but I can say the bright side it exposes is knowing that even though I am low vision, I can find fun and creative expression in photography that is meaningful to me. May your 2021 be marvelous and full of opportunities to let your creative light shine.