Tokyo: Architects: Tadao Ando and Issey Miyake
The “Star Child” that is Stanley Kubrick’s- - is not me: My stories told rarely are rarely seen: They died one-hundred times in a series of unfortunate dreams: Now I dream alone: I am my own audience:
Let’s take a twirl together: Let me show you a bit of soft-shoe a few two-steps: I want to be the hare racing ahead: I am gladly slowed by the quietude that mingles with my heart: Until it is seen no capture is secure: The “Star Child” is not me: My eyes not ours are living in a dream seen so slightly ahead.
Often I glimpse at a ghost- - near: Akira Kurosawa directs: He tips his brim; He doffs his cap- -: The masters majesty in my frame: I assimilate: My dream nips at his history: The imagined whispering genius breathes a bit of sonic pulse: My Pentax and Nikon salute- -My dreams anything Kurosawa: If only his cinematic “Dreams” were my realities; My universe his- -occasionally real- -: There are vibrations underfoot- - the march of anthem(s) are always present; “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” comes to mind: I continue the march: It has to be continued: I charge- -wide open, my aperture captures one day in my life.
When nobody watches I am alone: The consciousness that is my camera awakens: We are one as two when we advance- - we dance, as we do: A mass of cities quietly beyond yet not seen- - pose: I grasp a glimpse of nature’s possibilities: The tapestry that are layers of history and memories; that is us, revealed.
North Carolina: Architects: Snohetta: James B. Hunt Jr. Library
For a second I feel like Cartier-Bresson’s boy with bottles of wine: I joyfully gather a thousand clusters of cities imagined as a bouquet of trees: My palms’ fingers extended furtively- -linked like a Simian Crease across continents: Human habitats; Tokyo, Dubai, Barcelona, London and more spawned within centuries await: The magnificence of the imaginary tapestry idyllically appears. A pastoral tranquility communes with a beckoning complex urban sprawl: An abundance of pollinator highways appear secretly snaking among impenetrable skyscrapers:
New York City: Architect: Frank Gehry: Spruce Street mingling with the city
The beauty of nations witnessed: A dream massaged by a balm: Bruegel’s Tower of Babel or Pomodoro’s Fractured Spheres sit like pawns atop architectures’ global black and white chess board. Visual conundrums always present: Baskets of beauty will be seen: The earth is flat; Sightings of admired expansive light awaits: So I fly:
The face of time adorns my wrist: Guam’s Mount Lamlam tilts in the wind: The Hawaiian Mauna Kea appears just there: The Mariana Trench wades partially tethered and anchored to the underpinning of the Seven Seas: Visual restraints fall aside: My eyes weather great distances to see just beyond: Land and oceans’ reveal and relive tales from cemetery’s above and below: I imagine: My cameras capture memorials from the past: The present is almost behind: The future is a dream laden with unknown histories to become.
Confessionals have come and gone: I am no longer Kurosawa’s, Wender’s, Kubrick nor Varda. I have chased after buildings and nations: I am at peace meandering and loitering with dreams that have eyes not mine: If the atom can be split- - the puzzle that might be me…
New York City: Citi Corp