Non-Image
I am suddenly aware
of everything left behind--
hotel crinkle-cup,
blue jacket on bus,
silver charm in cemetery,
bag of hobo recipes, bowie knives and hats,
cassette tape roller coaster,
a ticket-shot-necklace dream,
arms locked,
the passing, intimate space
the passing, personal movement,
of place between place.
I don’t know what’s next.
That endless catastrophe of words
the sadness of image
each gesture, each form,
exists as image—a record of eventual loss.
Such a ridiculous thing, this fondness--
portal to ruin.
-Ren Adams, 2015
I am suddenly aware
of everything left behind--
hotel crinkle-cup,
blue jacket on bus,
silver charm in cemetery,
bag of hobo recipes, bowie knives and hats,
cassette tape roller coaster,
a ticket-shot-necklace dream,
arms locked,
the passing, intimate space
the passing, personal movement,
of place between place.
I don’t know what’s next.
That endless catastrophe of words
the sadness of image
each gesture, each form,
exists as image—a record of eventual loss.
Such a ridiculous thing, this fondness--
portal to ruin.
-Ren Adams, 2015
Back to Last Days