At Bay

*I found this playing card in the grass outside the house. What was it doing there?*

Poem #10

This poem was written in the shower. No, REALLY.

Occasionally, a poem arrives fully formed. In this case, it began with the click of a camera shutter, the way in my teens that creativity was finally exposed in a growing mind. All the photography, both in the collection and here, is mine, taken over a ten-year period. I specialize in detail others overlook.

There is a lot of practice however to get to this point, both with the words and pictures. Daily practice makes this a fuck of a lot easier, too. As with anything, the more it happens, the easier it feels, and on the day I wrote this I was off to spend my first serious weekend away since COVID hit. Relaxation and anticipation are also useful tools for inspiration.

Luck is something you make, for the most part. Occasionally, there is a moment of serendipity, but in my experience they are always preceded by a period where you’ve worked incredibly hard. This summer’s been a perfect storm of luck and belief, and just swallowing fear before going for it. I know this is the right road.

This poem was originally supposed to be a part of the series below that I produced in the Summer. Instead, I knew it was destined for greatness elsewhere.