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Sunday, 8 December 2013

Appointment


.

Man sleeping, Portland: photo by Austin Granger, 13 September 2012

the outlook always
unclear

the purpose forever

shrouded

the shadow of a body
in the trampled grass





Swings, Seaside: photo by Austin Granger, 12 March 2012
 

In a Field, Eastern Oregon: photo by Austin Granger, 14 July 2012
 

Coyote, Oregon: photo by Austin Granger, 17 July 2012

7 comments:

ACravan said...

I put this aside for an hour and turned my mind to other tasks while I tried to absorb what was meant and implied by

the outlook always
unclear

the purpose forever
shrouded

and the significance of appointments in my own life, which also (especially when I am disgruntled or in a bad mood) can seem like a vast, dry, featureless landscape, where I drag my featureless, shadowy self around punctually and on schedule without much purpose except to display the target on my back.

If it weren’t for the dates on Granger’s photos, I’d have little idea about the seasons on display. (I’ve never visited Oregon.)

In the top photo, taken in September, why are the trees so bare? (I guess that’s a beer beside the sleeping/passed out man.)

Usually black & white makes things realer and more alive for me because I experienced so much of the world that way watching tv as a child. Here it just makes things underworld-y and alien. Poor coyote – they get very little sympathy from anyone.

Curtis

STEPHEN RATCLIFFE said...

Tom,

the shadow of a body
in the trampled grass

man in shirtsleeves on such a cold morning here -- beautiful poem, together with these beautiful Austin Granger photos.

Poet Red Shuttleworth said...

The danger for Mr. Coyote, this sage steppe December morning, goes beyond seeing his reflection in highway ice. Yes, Tom, the outlook... unclear. It is overcast. One's skin can go stone-cold in a few heartbeats. Thank you for your poem and the photographs.

Red Shuttleworth

Nin Andrews said...

Yes, beautiful, sad poem/photos. The purpose, shrouded. So much the way I feel.

TC said...

I don't know that Austin Granger's Oregon is an Oregon for or of every Oregonian. It seems a muted, even silenced place -- a subtle, haunting vision, for me.

Wooden Boy said...

It's a troubling place to be: between that murky future, all the workings crossed out and that evental trace. The old head's aching with supposition.

TC said...

All the workings crossed out and all the suppositions scratched into the shifting sands, making one suspect the text inscribed on these uncertain foundations may be a continuing palimpsest left by the nobodies who have gone for the casual inspection of the nobody left standing.