Where the Light Gets In

By DHThomas

Mammoth

like a great beached whale
waiting for the tide to change
and carry it off


The unusual model - a Cutlass - and its colour caught my eye. I only had to wait a few seconds for something more to happen.

A triptych.

Also, I'd be curious to know if some of you will recognise an author I photographed during Festival America.

A poem composed on Monday:

Street

I am bracing myself against an overload –
the sounds too much – even eyes closed I am blinded

suddenly I don’t fight anymore
I have seen

my body relaxes
the wind the smells the jackhammer
course through me – I let them pass
they do not harm me they follow their channels
I process the sounds on layered levels
I dissect the light and inhale its colours

I am a bird of prey and my eyes zero in
on the target
my wings flutter for a second then stop
I hover above – behind – before
until the distance is right
until the moment is right
and the seven colours become light

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