NYC Near 125th St., 7/28/2018. Especially For @soulreserve

I admit to being slightly obsessed with taking photos that have crooked horizons and squaring them to horizontal. I know there’s a notion that a cock-eyed frame makes a more dramatic photo, but it often seems to me that the result just looks lazy or sloppy, like a snapshot, of which there are plenty with crooked horizons. Here’s one where I question whether inattention to the horizon is an improvement—a fashion photo with a world champion skydiver (link below). Left, as published (in Tumblr): what’s going on?; right, with horizon horizontal: the model is now clearly arrowing toward the ground.

The Makeup Brush

The Makeup Brush

World champion sky diver Domitille Kiger for Iris van Herpen Fall 2021 Couture

“Why I Wake Early,” by Jane Hirshfield

I wake early, make two cups of coffee, drink one, think, go back to sleep, wake again, think, drink the other.

To start a day over is a card game played for no money, a ripe tomato, a swimming cat.

Time here: lukewarm, with milk and sugar, big and unset as a table.

I wake twice.

Twice the window unbroken, transparent.

​Twice the cat’s nose and ears above water.

Twice the war (my war) is distant, its children’s children are distant.

Lunar Eclipse, January 31, 2018

7 AM EST / 8 PM AWST

Your setting sun Is rising for me. My setting Moon Is rising for you. In the cold morning, I… In the warm evening, you…      Set out to watch      Our belovèd orb      Cross Earth’s shadow.

Climbing the highest Place I can reach Near home (The metal stands Of the local sports field), I catch but a Glimpse Of shadow —Like eyeliner— On the upper limb, Before the Moon Is tangled in bare Winter branches As it drops behind First Watchung Mountain.

You, meanwhile, Are by the lake, Watching the Moon Rise from the Western Desert, A picnic set out, And the crowded sounds Of a busy summer night All around. You’ll see the whole show, As the Moon turns From buttery disc To ashy cinder To glowing coal And back again.

Your sky isn’t my sky, Nor is my earth yours. Yet we are linked, Sharing Sun, Sharing Moon, Sharing words. Half a world apart, Linked As friends.

© Sealanehill 2018

@soulreserve

Tidal flat in evening sun, Advocate Harbor, NS, Canada, 7/13/2018.

Dawn soon: star, half moon

Pebbledash dew glazes parked cars

First dog walk, new day.

7/14/2017, but appropriate this cool and dew-touched morning, 9/8/2017, as well.

Tea with the Poet (dialogue with @soulreserve) Murmurs over a cup of tea, A heart half-hid, not all can see: Her heart obscured in formulary, And veiled beneath arcane vocabulary. Yet warm within, her heart beats strong, Love, joy, and passion her inner song. Her words be freed of technical efficiency, Woman whole again--the gift of poetry.

Across and Up, 4 Mar. 2018, Paris.

An extreme digital reworking of a detail from the image.

Beech Leaves in Winter, Maryland, 12/28/2017

Parvati

I see her from afar, Sitting alone in the early day, Tracing gossamer thoughts And hearing the whispers Of her heart. Her muse is the One Who is not there, The One who is Inaccessible, Yet whose presence Is so real that He stirs the deepest passion Of her womanly soul. Thoughts shape images, Murmurs, words And she sings Of smoke and fire, Incandescent and all-consuming, Of drink so concentrated One sip intoxicates. I listen, taken by her music Toward her heart’s Center, Hoping for invisibility, That my presence not Disturb her muse, Hoping to be unseen By her consort, Shiva, Should he return While she is in her Bliss. ©sealanehill, 2017 For @soulreserve