all places
are forgotten
even the
good ones
we contained the wilderness of Eden
we forgot
what it looked like
before
the gates closed
all we could
do
to rebuild it
was
in our own image
all places
are forgotten
even the
garden of Eden
Quietly Imminent
or
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.