all places 
are forgotten 
 even the
 good ones
 we contained the wilderness of Eden
     we forgot
what it looked like      

the gates closed
all we could

  to rebuild it         
in our own image
all places 
are forgotten 
 even the
 garden of Eden
Quietly Imminent
Coping with Anthropocene
(visual poem)

Poetry is my chosen form of art therapy. When life is so complex it becomes unbearable, I deconstruct it in my mind, until I can see its skeleton. Then, I take that apart too, and assign each bone a good word, or an evocative metaphor. Finally, I put the bones back together to form a new creature - one I can understand. I go through much of the same process when I walk around with my camera, and choose which bones to keep in a composition. I guess, photography is my chosen form of art therapy too.

Other stories

Back to Top