In Honor of the First of May



Photo by creighton blinn,
all rights reserved



 . . . and as there is not enough room in this apartment for constructing a Maypole, I thought that I would observe the holiday with some verses. I did write something new this morning, however, it's still in revisions. So, for now, we'll need to make do with a piece I wrote last year. Regardless, I feel that it fits well with the occasion:

Momentum

Hearts beating quicker

And arms gripping tighter,

Our moist lips clasping,

Drawing us closer,

Pulling me further,

Filling all available space

As boundaries melt

Along warm wetness

Welcoming, guiding,

Voices gasping,

Trembling,

In the heat of passion,

Bursting . . .

Cheers all. 

Last Night at Reggio's

Last night I preformed a poem at the Cornelia Street Cafe Son of a Pony poetry series. I had been away from the venue for a few months, and it felt good to return again. I put in a strong showing, as did my dear TC, who read as well. In high spirits, we felt up for a little celebrating before heading home. (By chance, it also happened to be the one year anniversary of when she moved into her current apartment). Without much difficulty, we settled upon Cafe Reggio's for our simple, though no less tasty, feast. I snapped a few photos of the Village at twilight, some of which, I may post on another occasion. For now, however, I shall focus on the pictures I took inside the cafe. Cafe Reggio's is an establishment with much of what is usually referred to as character, which in this case consists of many antique art objects densely installed throughout the space.  In theory this might sound claustrophobic, but, in practice, it is not, creating instead a favorable atmosphere for their good food.  I did not chose to take any photos of this overall effect though, as my taste in framing tends more towards details than the overall picture. I sometimes suspect that it is so that I might focus in on an object, in an attempt to capture more fully a sense of mood or personality: 



photo by creighton blinn, all rights reserved





       





photo by creighton blinn, all rights reserved



There was a melancholy feel to these two pieces, which were placed near our table, especially the top one, as if the bust were of a saint silently accepting the beatings inflicted by the not so innocent seeming coat rack.  Indeed, the shape of the figure suggests to me a reliquary of martyr as much as the portrait bust of a young noble.  Meanwhile, his lady watches apprehensively, near at hand, yet still, powerless . . . 

Then there was this plate with its ghostly glare about it: 

photo by creighton blinn, all rights reserved

Of course, I do not always need to read a narrative into an image; I can also simply enjoy the beauty of pools of lights:

photo by creighton blinn, all rights reserved

photo by creighton blinn, all rights reserved

All in all, a good end to what had been a rather hectic week, as well as a good start to the weekend. 

Cheers