The Message

heels at the stanford theatre
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

Which way is she going?

I think, it is called

An ellipse. An imperfect circle,

A wobbling ovoid,

A drunken bee's dance.

the varsity

the varsity
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

it had been a while since i've strolled down university avenue in the evening.

my friend dan and i walked around last night and i kept having flashes in my mind and memory of what the street was like when i was a kid. i had visions of the promenade when it was still crowded with little boutiques, restaurants and mom 'n pop shops before the zip code 94301 became "the place to be" in the mid to late 80's.

slowly but inavoidably it seems, the quaint downtown strip bit by bit mutated into a ripe petri dish for franchises.

by the dotcom era, many of the little eateries and other small businesses went in the way of the snowy egret. today, restoration hardware, apple, borders moved in.

anyway, my original thought for this photo was to photoshop something underneath the borders sign to make a funny commentary but haven't decided on something sufficiently irreverant yet. perhaps leaving it the way it is for those who remember what it previously was like and triggering some sort of reflection is enough of a commentary as it is.

however, suggestions are welcomed. it is always fun to see photoshop employed for something other than bad, distasteful, and inaccurate manipulation of reflections on poorly designed automobile ads. ;-p but that is another post...

crusade (2003)

the painless smile
she wears as a flower

bears its petals,
displays the softness

of a rose
hiding sharp thorns.

the notes of laughter
leaving her throat

waltzes across the room
like a river's mist
coming to shore.

one might not imagine
the sharpness of the irises

in her eyes nor
the cutting intentions
resting in her crusade.

a glance in one direction,
a glimpse at another's station
reveal the losses,

cruelty that gave birth
to the most unkind of
human intention.

cleat and stowage

cleat and stowage
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

knots and rope and a place to hide. hardened stainless steel and chrome plated brass. low lying light and long shadows. softened edges on a hard form and then the desaturated look of something dead or dying. how strangely such a combination can come to life when you twist your point of view, tweak your mind from its usual habits.

the future ex-princess

so i cam home from a wonderful weekend hanging out with family and boating and it was very warm so i dug out some clothes i had not worn in a while...

and i found another object that had been (previously unknown) sprayed by my old housemate's cat named princess.

now i am a bonafide cat lover but this was one cat who always had issues with me and i with her. i was warned that she isn't friendly, etc. she even batted at me and hissed at me when i tried to pet her after feeding her and taking care of her while her mom was gone.

anyway, one day i discovered that she had sprayed a number of my things. clothes and such i could care less, they are washable. but then i discovered she had peed on one of my favorite journals...

it was a good thing i had already moved out upon this discovery because i, like any good fire blooded scorpio...well you know what that means and for those of you who don't, consider yourself fortunate.

so back to today, i found that a pair of shorts i picked out had her scent on it. not good. now i have to see what other items have been polluted. and it reminded me of what i thought when i found the journal, soiled. i said to myself if i ever see that cat again in person it is likely to make a really nice ebony...PELT. and with all the felines i dissected in biology classes back then and the wonderful collection of custom made skinning blades i own, the thought to GET that PELT suddenly came back in full swing...

oh i wouldn't stuff her or anything like that. more like curing the pelt and cutting up in little pieces and selling them to the high end fly fishing shops for fly tying material. i can market it as KARMA-PELT. use cat hair from a cat that has killed her fair share of fish and other little creatures to catch your next big idaho trout. whaddaya think???

therefore: the future ex-princess

Artifacts (2003)

Remnants of our past lie
Beneath consciousness

When solstice and equinox pass,
They reveal themselves in

A manner that shifting dunes
Present ancient ruins

Stasis beneath sand,
Away from light, air and

Heaven’s attention
Preserve the integrity of souvenirs

Like the unchanged nature of water
Locked in glaciers

Glow (2005)

There is something awkward in her smile
Yet the shimmer on her lips
Can't be avoided like
Light can't divorce shadow

When she says "yes" to a query
My heart can't help to rethink the question
It is the timbre of her "y" that seduces
She looks up and left when pondering

And in that minute flicker of a gaze
Universal matter that sees her expression
Is rearranged into filaments of light
Forming an undeniable mandala

the balcony at 14D Cong Ly Street

The Balcony At 14D Cong Ly Street
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

at my childhood home. when i was a child, i'd play on this balcony. i even remember setting a train set on it once. it used to look out over the sideyard lawn where i played. in that garden yard, i once saw a snake coiled on a branch, i was fascinated.

on this balcony at certain times of the moon cycle, i would help my great grandma put out trays of candles in offering to deities. they were little red candles. i would sit inside and come out to check them frequently to make sure the breeze didn't blow them out. i would relight them.

in front of my eyes, my mind's eyes when i looked at this balcony again years later the candles were still there sitting in a perfect grid, held to the tin tray by melted butts and stuck down.

i remember the moon on those nights, or was that another memory?

Siesta In Sanctuary – 22 June 2005

siesta in sanctuary
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

I was sorting through a couple thousand images of my trip last year in Vietnam and came across this one of Ivy taking a quick nap.

It was taken after a long lunch at a Buddhist temple with some friends who were hosting us when we arrived in Saigon. We all took catnaps before heading back to the airport to fly up to Hue for a big event the next day.

Seeing this image brought a sense of calm, a respite from all that surrounds us, all the noise, all the traffic and all the craziness of the outside world...

The Circle (2005)

I could not rest in the chill of Winter’s past
So I rose to seek warmth in memories fled
After our last conversation my head kept
Spinning for two disoriented days

I’d always joked that her sense of timing was poor
So she expertly proved my conviction once more
A half past midnight call with earnestness and calm
Intent with a dialogue of enchanting words

An unexpected message misplaced in time
The words came across the wires like whispers in ether
Brimming with affection and strangely meditated
“It wasn’t you, it was about me you must know that,
You were a good husband, you always supported me.”

“You always provided, I couldn’t have asked for more.
You are still my best friend as you have always been.”
Clichés are cold to the point like the nature of snow
But snow can also hold warmth, keep you alive.

I once lived in an ancient building made of stone.
Its massive granite walls were cold inside and out
And its stout halls were cold inside and out,
They were no barrier to the seeping persistent cold.

Solid walls lack empty voids of shifting snow drifts.
They lack the ironic ability of snow to hold warmth
In the same manner a cliché can offer ephemeral comfort,
Displacing guilt and regret for brief moments before the thaw

And leaving nothing left but bemoaned droplets of hope
That yearns for fullfilment at the coming of Spring.
There is also irony in the passing midnight conversation
That closes a circle opened with vows and a pair of rings.

In between (2006)

In between silence and clamor
There must be a peace behind each face
In between words of hope and despair
There must be stories that are factual

The young man sits in a wizened body
A shell of youth, pawn of ancient memory
The young artist paints a neolithic symbol
A mark of extinct civilizations in acrylic

In between songs of angels and tears of mortals
There is the humming of trillions enslaved
In between the allemande and the dirge
There have been rises and falls of a thousand cultures

When in the night and all is silent,
The attention of past and present sit in stillness
When in the place that is within and so without
The past is a passing shadow, the future a bud unfurled

Agnieszka

The whispery light hangs
On her shoulder,
Barely visible.

Alabaster sheen
Lives in the hollow
Of a collarbone,

Beaming a paleness
That attracts honey bees,
Imagining that something

Worldly could be so sweet.
The restfulness
Of her chin,

Leading up to lips
At a word's edge
Toward a restrained sentiment,

Hinting what the eyes
Might be saying,
Leaving Mona Lisa's smile
Much to be desired.

If (2005)

If I can empty my mind and heart of the past burdens
I might see the true color of her eyes.

If I can accept my role in the wreckage,
I might comprehend the true nature of her character.

If I can shed this reptilian skin of guilt and shame,
I might one day sense the warmth of her heart.

I stand on a glassy ridge of an emotional divide,
To my left there are reflections of faces, events and places;

The foundation of all that has led me to my position.
To my right is an infinite chasm for the detritus of my life.

I stand frozen, praying for the courage to let it all go
For in holding attachment in place of clarity,
I shall never in a thousand years know who she is.

promenade (2005)

one word forward
and a pause

a breath, a moment
of calm

three words forward
half a moment back

a smile, a glance
into a stare

another smile
contact and exchange

stumbling feelings
wobbly statements

committed hesitation
hesitant willingness

Amanda (2004)

Amanda with the spirited smile
I see her eyes and face in the soul of another.

Her prance belies the fragile connection,
Between heart and spine, love and honesty.

(Americus, Georgia)

stranger in my dream

Malika
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

There are moments she comes to me through a shared piece of music. I am moved but then I am left to ask what happened to the person who moved me so? I am asked where are the people who stirred these emotions in me? Where and why aren’t they here now? I was a silent, still pool. They came and stirred the water and have left me to watch the ripples. Sometimes the ripples reverberate my own sorrow, my own loss of their continuing presence.

Rose River, Vietnam (2005)

This is the color of the river,
They call it red,
They call it pink

But it is the color of mud,

The hue of the toil of a million peasants,
A thousand year’s worth of tears
Pigmenting clay with the color of pain.

Firefly (2005)

for Jane

so i spoke to you
briefly
and it was a little strange.

you were distracted.
it was not like
one of our conversations.

but its fleetiness was nice,
it reminds me of
your evasive nature.

and even now,
i don't understand
why i put forth
so much effort

towards you.

Monk Initiate, Thien Mu Pagoda

Monk Initiate, Thien Mu Pagoda
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

Thien Mu (Heavenly Mist)

Facing North, river view
Realms cross in a muted fog
Still moments eternal

--

Cerulean prows wait
Silky waters lapping hull
Poised at will to leave

--

Monk initiate crouches
Washing leaves with mindful calm
Making tea for thought

Silence

The silence that is in his life
Is not a calm residing beneath.

The pillar that stands in sandstorms
Shows only pitted flesh on the inside.

The serenity that others sense
Are only moments at the end of

Contemplation and before self admonition.
There is a hollow work of faith

Still bound to an inherited hope and
Dearly afraid of eventual abandonment.