Poetic Shutterbug

3/29/24 - 7/9/94 Sunday Dinner For Mom Pass the parmesan, Uncle Louie and let's toast with the family chianti! "Mia familia mangia con gusto Genovese pasta con pesto" Papa, may I be excused? "Hey Franco, chew your food" Papa, but I have a date! "If he respects you, he will wait" Aunt Maria, you're sitting so quiet "Forgive her, she's on a diet" Mama can't hear herself think she just smiles and sips her drink. Her family is together.

She awaits the rise of the moon when the call of the wild imbues creative energies waiting to be set free. The notebook paper stares back at her naked, a desolate wilderness desperately longing to be clothed in artistic garb. Her pen a broken instrument with which she holds on for life yet falls dead within her fingers and the paper sits bare, alone clinging to nothingness devoid of essence. With the slow demise of her cerebral fashionista the paper seems familiar as it mirrors the blank corridors of her mind. Sanitized by it's emptiness both mind and paper And the silence is deafening. A quiet oasis begging for the wind to breathe life into this mindless desert, yet the wind stifled and her thoughts stand still going nowhere. Though enticing as it seems this recycled slab of wood pulp lies undistinguished a bare bones form without meaning, just as her mind sits unknown in skeletal remains without image. And she writes.

Startled, I awaken in an anxiety born stupor. It's 4:00 a.m. Sunday morning. In the distance a siren announces a 911 while a car alarm bellows out of control. Cars race an uncontrollable rage through empty streets. Light flickers through my window yet I know there is no light outside other than the moon displaying it's devilish grin. Is it a warning? I scare myself into blind paralysis. Staring into oblivion my body is frozen with fear. The incessant ticking of the clock - a breathing crescendo drowning my pulse. Paper rustling outside my door though the wind silent. Is it the house settling? A raccoon rummaging? Or, is it my mind damning my sensibilities? Haunting memories invade speaking to me in tongues, unexplained. Nocturnal entities without form parade the darkness. I shrink under the covers yet the unheard and unseen more frightening than the perception of reality I cannot escape. A sudden scream wails from a neighboring house and my senses freeze. It becomes difficult t...

Walking foreign steps to the rhythm of taiko the pulse of erhu dancing buddhas. Cantonese croonings lotus flower soft silk smooth operatic chants. Lanterns parade a welcome smile nameless faces yet known. Humid mist Eastern breeze incense fog scents of life. and the journey begins