2 June 2002 | Vol. 2, No. 2


The camera stores the hours when

everything returns to the right hand,

view finder matching patterns

of parents and children, shutter

measuring different speeds of dying,

flash fixing days when the living

came together with remembered

sounds of hammers pounding

nails, hands slapping dough,

sticks rattling fences.

Everything stored in an eye flash.

All the parts reconciled

in a landscape with grass

a green that never