Swimming
Bless the pollinators. They bless us.
Bless the pollinators. They bless us.
'Been hard the last two months. My girl left. She wants to be HERE. I can't be THERE...'
Dear Anonymous,
'Been hard the last two months. My girl left. She wants to be HERE. I can't be THERE. We fall into bad habits together. But everybody's askin' for her all day. And my mom, she's real ill. And it's rainin' and the cops tell us to move out from beneath the awning and we're drenched and then the next cop tells us to move under the awning 'cuz it's rainin'.
We got Hannaford cards donated to us and a bunch of us pooled it together to get stuff for the shelter kids. We was able to get popsickles and cookies and we got them to the beach. And they played. With the new toys I brought. Some of them kids had never seen the water before even livin' here in Portland. It was somethin' different for them. For us. It helped the parents. Helped the kids. Gave us somethin' good to do. I wound up playin' Barbie. Dressin' and undressin' the dolls like the girls do cuz' that's how they play. One little one kept runnin' to the edge of the water and just stickin' her toe in and runnin' back. Over and over.....'
her beautiful skirt. she danced. regardless.
her beautiful skirt. she danced. regardless.
it was like this when I could not determine if it was a patient unfolding or a protective shutter...
it was like this when I could not determine if it was a patient unfolding or a protective shutter. the rain falls. i hear the drops land on the plateaus of broad hollyhock leaves. i see it drip off the pointed end of long lilies . i see the water collect in this crevice or in that fold. but not you. you take it in as you need and even with all these hours of steady pouring you do this like you are keeping sun out of your eyes. like you have thrown your arm up over your face. you have your ways and I am so relieved by this.
and there was rain and the earth was able to drink.
and there was rain and the earth was able to drink.
It wasn't so much she was above it all. It was more that she held one nostril very high so as to breathe.
It wasn't so much she was above it all. It was more that she held one nostril very high so as to breathe.
It was quiet. The world set at pause for just a moment...
It was quiet. The world set at pause for just a moment. And though everything was still moving I could stop and examine those words. Still. Moving.
Several people are speaking at once and there's water and tshirts and socks and...
Dear Anonymous,
Several people are speaking at once and there's water and tshirts and socks and coffeecake and coffee cards being distributed and 'Do you have any backpacks?' 'Do you have any pants?'
I have my camera over my shoulder and he says ' I guess I'm not pretty enough today to be photographed." and flashes this smile.
He doesn't love to be photographed. But he gives permission. He's looking for...
Dear Anonymous,
He doesn't love to be photographed. But he gives permission. He's looking for a pair of shoes we had for him yesterday. But he can't find them. Size 15.
'I wasn't coherent yesterday.' he whispers in a quiet and raspy voice.
He asks for sage, a pair of socks 'Can you spare two?'. He needs a shower he says. We get some clean clothes rounded up.He taps his medicine bundle with his hand, near his heart and nods his head ever so slightly with gratitude to Maria, of the Penobscot Nation.Thank you.
He does not like being photographed and changes his posture immediately when the camera comes out ...but he allows me and I know this is a gift from him. He is a man of tender heart.
The pretty way the word 'displacement' skirts the image of massacre. That's how I wind up standing here.
The pretty way the word 'displacement' skirts the image of massacre. That's how I wind up standing here.
We change. And we will continue to change...
Dear Anonymous,
We change. And we will continue to change. This first photo is of our friend Tyler this morning, June 27. The photo on the right is of Tyler last year, June 30 2019. I wonder sometimes if Tyler recognizes why every time I see him now it's a miracle. It. Is.
—with Tyler Scott
These are toys from Dear Anonymous for Mike to distribute at the shelter...
Dear Anonymous,
These are toys from Dear Anonymous for Mike to distribute at the shelter.
Mike has told us giving to others, particularly kids going without, is a high. 'I love these kids. It's their parents who get a little grabby!'
I say I hope it makes someones' day.
'You kidding?' he belts out on the sidewalk 'It's makin' MY day. They're gonna love this. '
He looks at me impishly and says ' I can't wait to play!'
And he trudges off like the Street Santa. Toys in a garbage bag. Goodwill.
He waits until everyone has left. All I can think and feel is...he is so young. He tells me he overdosed...
Dear Anonymous,
He waits until everyone has left. All I can think and feel is...he is so young. He tells me he overdosed yesterday. Alcohol. Meth. He is partly humbled. Partly cocky. Maybe having walked that dizzying line and made it. He tells me this is is 5th or 6th time. I don't really know in this moment if he is grateful to survive or pissed off. I don't know.
He'd like some water. A coffee card. Coffeecake. Socks.
And he drifts off while he continues to speak. Talking on and on. It doesn't seem to matter that no one listens.Now he's down the street. I will beep later as I drive by and he will not lift his head, focusing on the bricks ahead of him.
I asked the other guys about so and so, where's he been?
'Got his 'script. On a benzo bender for 2 or 3 days. Then he tries to steal ours.'
Meanwhile there is a small chorus of thank yous. Thank you Dear Anonymous.
Sky's above.
Sky's above.
The blonde in the front seat.
The blonde in the front seat.
Night Heron walking the bridge.
Night Heron walking the bridge.
Sometimes it's just this. A smile or two. A nod. A slightly lifted hand off the thigh suggesting a wave...
Sometimes it's just this. A smile or two. A nod. A slightly lifted hand off the thigh suggesting a wave. Sometimes it's so little and it's almost always so much.
—with Stu Jones
Early out at Union Wharf.
Early out at Union Wharf.
The Day Joe introduced me to Kenny, and Transience, chapter 64 "Babes in the Woods"
This is Kenneth W Beek who I met out on the streets a few years ago. More of his memoir TRANSIENCE will be published in Julys' edition of MAINER NEWS. His writing is...remarkable.
Here's an excerpt that he offered in the comments of an image I posted on Father's Day:
'Ashlea had given me a phone. She actually traded me for a cigarette, but when was the last time you bought a phone for a dime? My guess is, phones probably cost more than ten cents when the first telephone was sold. And so it was a gift.
The first thing I did was download a free text app. The second thing was text my “elder” child, who happened to be with my “younger” child- who is more accurately my middle child- the two of whom happened to be in Old Orchard Beach. That's not two hundred miles away like Bangor. That's two towns away, or somewhere between Biddeford and Purgatory. So we made arrangements to meet. It had been awhile… I hadn't seen Rachel since she had to go, and I hadn't seen Bowman since the weekend I lost my last wallet and found myself in jail rather than Heaven. I was waiting for them in Monument Square across the street from the library using the public Wi-fi. I was listening to Hank Williams and wondering how my dad was doing. I was wondering about a lot of things, the sorts of things normal people don't seem to wonder about at all. I wasn't worrying about anything, which also seems to distinguish me from normal people. Maybe that's just a misconception, but I seem to encounter a lot more worry than wonder, most places I go.
“Dad!”
It was Rachel. She was approaching from across the park with her brother and her boyfriend. I waved to them, and Bowman waved back. He can't get too excited about seeing his father. He's a teenaged boy, a young man. He has to be kool. I can relate. Being kool made me what I am: The Beast on a bench with nowhere to go.
“What's going on?” he greeted me, the drawl of Kool Kids of America.
He had waited until he got close enough to not have to yell. Kool kids only yell at concerts and cops… but an ear to ear grin was fastened to his flush and blushing face. He kept his kool, but just barely. He was excited to see me. I was happy to see him, but with that level of elation only possible when it springs from a deep well of regret, like a bucket hanging clear to Hell, drawing its final drops of Joy. The reservoir of those emotions is a ravine of regret, a hidden landscape forged by remorse for the sins of a condemned soul. I'm pretty kool.
I got up and hugged them both and shook her boyfriend's hand. I'm not much for hugging. It's difficult to embrace anyone else, even my children. I've always felt like that. My mother never hugged me that I can recall, and my father mostly only did so to apologize for taking a beating beyond the reasonable level of discipline. I figure that's how most tough guys are made. Lord knows, my father was tough. The Lord also knows my father was beaten often as a child, and quite beyond any reasonable level of discipline. I've never hit Rachel. I spanked Bowman once, but it hurt me more than it did him. I'm not just voicing an old cliché. I spanked him once. I could never have done it again.'
Transience, chapter 64 "Babes in the Woods"
The Day Joe introduced me to Kenny