Accessories wrapped around fingers
Hearts worn on sleeves
Stale intentions that render
A commitment useless
In the face of what’s to come
Author Archive
In Bold
Is that you?
Transparency is a no show
In these times of show it all.
Substance passes through a cautious filter
Of carefully chosen words
And adapted roles
Leaving us with thin
Liquefied versions of ourselves.
It’s there, somewhere
Must be
You catch glimpses
Catch fleeting shadows
Ghosts of the living.
Shine a light
And watch it dance
The avoidance dance
Contract, expand, hide, disappear.
Am I making myself clear?
Chicago, IL 2011
Haze
There’s a haze.
A haze spread thick across my head.
Edgy thoughts and sharp wit
Produce small incisions of no avail.
Ephemeral visions inside the haze.
There’s a haze. A nuisance, this haze.
Shaking it off like a wet dog fails.
Blanketed in a thick fog veil.
It won’t go away. It won’t go away.
There’s a haze. Oh troublesome haze.
Neurons are stranded in the station.
Trains of thoughts derailed.
A daze of mixed smoke signals.
Not white, but pale the haze.
There’s a haze.
A phase, this haze?
A face in the haze?
Needles in hays.
There’s a haze.
Hate the haze. Haze the hate.
Hate the way the haze behaves.
Lost myself inside this maze.
Lost the pieces inside the haze.
Lost the peace inside the haze.
Lost the peace inside.
San Luis Obispo, CA 2010
What’s That Old Saying?
Well, he can also be a girl’s best friend, right?
San Juan, PR 2010
Tide Untied
There go your worries, down with the setting sun, dazzled by the glistening surface of the sea.
San Diego, CA 2010
Tortillas
They’ve been making them since pre-Columbian times. Treasure is not the kind you find and tuck away in a vault somewhere, but that which makes it into tradition thanks to careful preservation by its discoverers.
San Diego, CA 2010
Head in the Clouds
If all of us were grounded, we would never be able to reach new heights.
San Diego, CA 2010
Past
It passes by until it becomes a speck in your rear-view mirror. Then, it’s gone.
Somewhere along the PCH, CA 2010
Aloof
The greatest part of making art is the process itself, being engrossed in that private space where time has a tendency to get lost. Selling it is, regretfully, a necessary side note.
San Francisco, CA 2010
Claimed
Every year, thousands of tourists and locals walk across those pier planks. Today, that single worn out board belongs to no one else but them.
Santa Monica Pier, Los Angeles, CA 2010
A Look Inside the Batey: Goodbyes
Every time a shutter opened and closed, our eyes widened more and more. We were in awe of their simplicity, their kindhearted nature, and how easy it was for them to make us feel at home. They gave us more than just photographs to bring back with us. They gave us a reason to return. We lived moments revealed only by that personal proximity, that close human interaction where strangers share something too personal to be captured by any mechanical lens. And with that, our brief visit finally came to an end. We have our snapshots, our memories, our ever so limited glimpse of the batey. They… They have the rest of their lives there, right there where we left them.
Batey Concho Primo, DO 2010
A Look Inside the Batey: The Children
Eyes like gems, still uncut, still unpolished, but precious and worthy of careful safekeeping. They have probably been exposed to more than they ought to, but behind every glare lies a glint of innocence so pure and vulnerable they cannot be neglected. These are our children. And even if they have to grow under trying conditions, they’re still up for play, for laughter, and for a chance to be amazed by the simplest thing.
Batey Concho Primo, DO 2010
A Look Inside the Batey: The Men
Sugar workers of a bitter reality. Their sustenance drips sweet from the rusty blade of their machetes back into the borrowed ground. They break their backs through long, hot days and hard hours on a wage no higher than the sprouts of the early crop. No hardship will diminish their strength of soul. No misfortune will rob them of their manhood. Cultures might be blended in this community of natives and immigrants, but the spirit of the man remains one and the same.
Batey Concho Primo, DO 2010
A Look Inside the Batey: The Women
Ladies of the outskirts, dames of the land outside of memory. Tough as bagasse, they stroke dainty poses for our cameras, eager to record their femininity somewhere, anywhere that would provide a fairer forum. They are the carers of a community of insufficient means in a country which can not readily concede any. So they must wholly become their essence and be the nurturers of those around them, providing warmth, strength, courage, and even a coy glance if you should ever require one.
Batey Concho Primo, DO 2010
A Look Inside the Batey: Greetings
“Dead time” comes to life as smiles stir up the dwellings and vicinities of the empty cane fields. The passing of the “zafra” has opened a window for a warm welcome, where an unwary curiosity immediately sought the attention of our prying lens. It’s an unexpected visit, but the ice was broken with the first click of the camera, and just like that, we were kindly invited to come in.
Batey Concho Primo, DO 2010
Into the Fog
At night, street lamps turned the pier into a red, misty walkway with no clear end in sight. The sound of the slow waves below accompanied every step with uneasy rhythm while behind you everything faded away. Salty smells rode the oncoming wind, delivering the news that the only certainty before you was the vastness of the sea.
Pismo Beach, CA 2010
On the Right Track
Want to get more out of life? Expanding your horizons is just the ticket.
San Diego, CA 2010
Nursery Mice
Mom told them not to look directly at the eclipse, because it would damage their eyes, but they didn’t listen.
San Francisco, CA 2010
Showdown
Take a long, hard look and decide whether you really want to pick this fight, because, truthfully, in the end, it’s gravity that will come out victorious.
San Juan, PR 2010
Bird Watch
In a crooked stance the old bird oversees the ground below, where humans hurriedly walk, where humans crawl. And as the wind ruffles his ragged feather cloak, he rests at ease, perched there among the drying leaves, for he has flown.
San Juan, PR 2010
Traveling Troubles!
Oops! We went on the road this week and failed to post our daily LensVerse on Thursday and Friday. So, to make up for the absence, here’s a peek at the wonderful sites we’ve seen during our travels. Enjoy!
