MRI

  

Sounds follow pathways

through the clutter in my brain

and stop to read poems

The Examined Life

     The Photographer

     Freezes action—and

Photographs

A shut door

A half eaten sandwich

A conversation in medias res 
with the next word unsaid 

Half an explanation

A landscape blind

to the catastrophe arriving

after the town turns out the last light

A man leaning against a pole

unaware of the car ready to jump the curb

Constrained

Dependent upon a piece of glass

The fish eye lens distorts the edges

The telephoto pulls the mountain into view

Explain to the viewers—

This is how it looked before the dust

buried the crops, before the earthquake 

buried the people, before the snow melted

You are seeing a piece of history

captured, manipulated, enhanced

The photographer documents the strike, the landslide—

The first day of school—

The children with distended stomachs

The plight of refugees

The demarcation line

The portraits of leaders, tyrants, serial killers

The marching band playing the national anthem

before the football teams take they field

The lens stop the years

For a moment you’re ten

then sixteen wearing a corsage for the junior prom

Here’s a class photo

Remember that person on your left?

He died in Korea, Vietnam, —Iraq

The photographer pauses—distill the moment,

Adds a viewpoint to a perishable reality—

and it haunts the soul

Repetitions

I know the route, the path—

it’s terrain, detours along the way

The prayers that go awry and those

that surround with holy breath

I accept the measured words

with their familiar sentiments

I experience words forged in love—

as prayer