Taken with my little Fuji Z7, using $5 sunglasses as filter, this was shot in Puerto Penasco not far from the beach.

This is a friend, and I initially shied away from posting this pic with it's somewhat bleary, brutish qualities; however there's a certain painterly feel (Francis Bacon , perhaps?) that while disturbing, draws the eye.

It's one of those I keep re-visiting, wanting to re-touch and crop, drawing out certain elements, but in the end, like most of my pics, seems best to present unedited.

Witness

through
dirt-speckled panes
a robin's egg
pale blue
sky

- criss-crossed by clouds,
diagonal
and Dali-esque -

while street lights
flicker
luminescent,

and
wink out
one by one,

acquiescing
to the growing light.

It's morning
-and-
I am awake once again.

As the light fades

I went back in time this a.m., pouring through this blog to find an old poem.

Didn't find it at first, then got distracted looking at old pictures, and snippets of articles past.

Made my heart swell a bit, to see who I was, who we were, and I write this out of... what exactly, I don't know.

Longing, perhaps? For a different place and time.

(beat)

I wrestle each day, with acceptance of who I am, while at the same time, trying to be a better person.

I fail and I succeed, advance and recede, like the tide.

And my heart swells.

I am reminded of a line from Shawshank Redemption, which sounds trite, but there are some gems there.

The one I'm thinking of now is spoken by Morgan Freeman after Tim Robbins escapes. He talks about the grayness of life, after his friend has left.

Am I so different from then?

Yes and no.

The thrill of sharpened knives - thrown into the air and falling like rain, only to be caught and hurled up again - no longer hold the appeal they once did.

(beat)

And yet.

And yet, and yet, and yet.

The glint and glitter of knives dancing on air, my eyes a-gleam, lips curled up, and blood surging forward;

I will not forget,

Even as the light fades...

(exhalation)