Friday, July 27, 2012

There's a trick with a hose I'm learning to do

I received a visit a couple weeks ago from photographer Patrik Jandak. One of Patrik's favourite subjects is poets (gawd luv 'im), so when he planned a trip to the east coast, he contacted me about doing a shoot. I was expecting him to drop by, but he hadn't said when he'd be coming. Around nine a.m., the morning after a railroad trip, I clomped blearily down the stairs in my housecoat. Looking out the living room window, I saw a very tall man standing on the sidewalk, about to dial a cell phone. Recognizing Patrik from his picture on Facebook, I opened the front door and invited him in. We had a coffee and chatted on my back deck. When I suggested I get dressed so we could go out and find a good place to shoot, he asked if I'd mind him taking a few shots of me as I was. Then he asked if I had a hose...

Tuesday, July 10, 2012


We arrived at the bend of solstice week
and pitched our tent below the red-roofed kirk
afloat like an ark on a blue-lupin

lea. In the lee of the cliff, we blew up
our bed to lie down beneath the midnight
sun, hard by the black-sand beaches of Vík.

Afloat on the youngest land Earth's bred, we slept
and woke to the surging sea, to the screak
of the terns who'd returned to breed, to rise,

plummet and nest. In wind and rain, we struck
our tent and girded ourselves for return
by a route discrete from the way we came.