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On July 18, 1997, after years of unhappiness, unexpectedly I fell in love with someone. After a while the relationship ended. I wrote many poems, six dialogues, and took many photographs about what was happening and how I felt until September 1, 2000, when I finally came to terms with myself.

It is wonderful how outside objects encouraged and strengthened me during this period! Sometimes an object I photographed inspired a poem. Sometimes a poem inspired photographs. Sometimes a poem reminded me of photographs I had taken many years ago. I hope these words and images will strengthen, encourage, and even delight others as they have me.

Due to the overwhelmingly positive response to the manuscript, I am now looking for an agent or publisher who can bring the book to the general public. I welcome all suggestions and referrals.

Love on a Bed of Lettuce
A Heavy Price to Pay
Even More Beautiful
Green Penguin
A Question for Clara



October 15, 1996

Love On a Bed of Lettuce


Two olives
Were making love
On a bed of lettuce--
At least,
That's how I saw it.

So I photographed them
There in the bowl
With the sun lighting their pea green,
    leafy bower
And warming it.

The opening in one olive was up,
In full view,
A sticky liquid shining in it.
The other olive nestled against it,
Quietly, contentedly.

So love was here,
Elementally.

Love, you know,
Begins simply.
Love begins with touch that's meant,
As between a mother and child,
A child and mother.
And--hopefully--
A man and a woman,
A woman and a man.

I saw love today
In this dish of lettuce
With two olives, touching gently.
Two olives,
Glistening, resting in the sun.
And I recorded this
On film.









February 27, 1998

A Heavy Price to Pay


My hope that he
Loved me
Twisted the facts
Before me.

I loved him
Because he is good,
Has beauty of mind,
Is kind,
Is young.

I am good,
Have beauty of mind,
Am kind,
Am young
In a way
(But not all ways.)

So I misinterpreted
His intermittent joy
At being with me.

What is the connection between
Hope,
Thought,
Seeing?

I hoped that he loved me;
I thought that he loved me;
I saw things that told me:
"Yes, he does love me!"

But I also saw
Things to the contrary:
I saw him being two ways.
So I thought of him in two ways,
And I saw him in two ways:
I didn't focus.

My hope that he loved me was so strong
That, literally,
I weakened my sight,
My eyes.

And now
I am a little cross-eyed,
Less beautiful,
Less good,
Less young:

A heavy price to pay.










April 15, 1998

Even More Beautiful


I am a candle.

Are you a candle?
Are you a bonfire?
Are you a torch?
Are you a man carrying a torch?
For whom are you carrying the torch?

I cannot see you clearly now:
I am dazzled by your beautiful light.

If you are a candle,
In time
We could get close
And melt together,
Become one candle
With one glorious,
Beautiful,
Hot
Flame.

Whatever you are--
Candle, bonfire, torch, or
Man carrying a torch--
We have something in common:
We each light up the world
In our special way.

In time
I hope to be strong enough
To see you clearly,
For I sense your light,
Better seen,
Is even more
Beautiful.










May 18, 1998

Green Penguin


Leaf, standing up tall, like a spear,
Facing the sun,
I would be like you.
I like your spirit.
You encourage me somehow.

Look! The sun is changing on you,
And you look a little like a bird,
A green penguin, somehow,
Instead of white and cold.

Oh leaf, bird --
Whatever you are--
God sent you now
To encourage me,

When love,
Once bright,
Is lost.








		

July 2, 1998

A Question for Clara


Dora: Do you know, Clara, in the past I've noticed quite a few men having a physical response to me. Clara: Of course, darling. That's natural. There's nothing wrong with it. In fact, it's quite good. Mazeltov! Dora: But with this particular man, Harry, that I've been interested in for almost a year--he's very shy, or something. It takes him a long time to ask me for a date, and then he has a very big physical reaction. Clara: You don't say! Dora: Yes. He gets nauseous and has a headache for a day.
What do you make of it? It's physical alright, but it's not the kind I'm used to. Is it good or bad? Clara: It beats me, kid. What did you say his name is?











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