Laugh lines
Trace your eyes and mouth,
Suggest a nose and chin.
Diamonds in the dark spaces
Deep as the cosmos tell me
About your eyes.
In what remains of you
In this photo
That has been photocopied
Passed around
And left in the rain
You are present.
So many years ago
You slipped through
The photographer's eye,
Through the lens of the camera,
Onto the paper
That became the print
And the photocopy
That flutters in the breeze.
Your spirit passed into that image that
Claimed you and kept you
As the work of art you are.

The breeze will carry
Your smile into the day
And the day will be bright.

In 2003, I visited Ground Zero and spent quite a lot of time looking at the tributes placed on the fence around St. Paul's Chapel. I recall a photo of a father who perished in that horror. His photo had been copied onto green paper that offered a brief tribute. The paper had faded in the two years it had been there, but the smile remained. The man was visible. His smile haunts he me yet. I find this is a strange phenomenon with my own photos that have faded. Though the features are spectral, the spirit of the smile remains. It is how I know the story of the images; it is how they tell their own story.

One Single Impression