the Camera Man


Made when the east knew the west…a Voigtländer…

leather-bound, brownie brown.

A gift, an offering to an auspicious, stranger’s eyes.

He had been my Camera Man who disguised aperture with millimeter umbrage and bleached palette in hand.

Fervent in tethering a child’s focus.

falling roof

My present day…

dark rooms notwithstanding…remain.

Atonement’s of vignettes…bland with impressions.

The Camera Man…close up and personable as, kin.

That is when edges infinity…began.

No use in seeing the scenery differently today.

Visions are me

and

I am they.

There is an alcove to what they may to say.

In the dark room…where the Camera Man lives and plays.

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