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![[WOMAN AND WINDOW DISPLAY] by George Eastman House.](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_vdoui1CIX2bhhVOozUOCVSzjjTQfK9ohWtY14kblz0Pc4-LTV5BtWnjYSKwFoiKjCZFPGNqSsPrPi1uXlj0OLh8WYXakdTHf-nVQFSmKD_wy0DUWEj7NtmPI9howZkQ4Mdyws=s0-d)
Dying day pinches the tot
He grabs my pen and beads
And plays into my hands
His father’s skull glistens
Across his wife’s white arms
The past bursts on a flower
And softly erases its bulb
We hear this going on all around
Night packs the traffic in cotton
And 1st Ave. fruit stands in opal
It is his first day to hurl a toy
But a gray torch rises in the future
Like a pair of scissors
The dark unravels towards
As I return to my newspaper
Woman and Window Display: photo by James Jowers, 1968 (George Eastman House Collection)
1st Ave: photo by James Jowers, 1966 (George Eastman House Collection)
1 comment:
Tom, this is great. It reminds me of the feeling I had this evening as I walked with Keaton and Waylon through South Austin. Poison ivy, Virginia Creeper, and English ivy all grow in clumps and clusters along the path. No matter how insistent I am on pointing out the three-leaf structure of the PI, the boys seem to be drawn by it, oblivious, and open.
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