from my friend lee, i am so thankful

“i hope you’re feeling okay. i just want you to know that i love you. you’re a good man. and um, i just, i’m sorry that things didn’t work out between you and your wife, ex-wife. but you are a good man and i love you for it. stay cool and keep your head above water. and um, if there’s anything that you need and i have it at my disposal, feel free to let me know if you think there’s anything you think i might be able to do. i love you very much michael. and give me a call when you get a chance, no pressure. ok then. i love you mike and i’ll call you sometime next week unless you call me this weekend sometime. ok. alright then michael, i love you.”

i do not know what i do not know yet

i see i see
this is not the way it will be
in death throes
i convulse at once touching
the earth, serpentine, like a sine
disbelieving the change
i am throwing you up
bulimic
it is a long way from my tail to my head and back again

some cafe, 2009

in the middle of the floor
by the door
i jackhammer my way, cab calloway style
doing minnie the moocher
jump
the gap between your lips, perfect
super smoocher
your smile says ‘i’m really unhappy but i could be happy with you’
so brand new to your mona lisa voodoo
insane matchmaker
i can feel myself in all the different times of my life with you
birds fly grass thighs sway to the sweet touch of what i begin to not remember so much
and just for a moment i am with you
and just for a minute i am your friend

my father visits again, valentine's day, 2009

my father came to me in a dream last night. he is ready to go he said. he looked great, softer, wiser, still beautiful. black hair and a face like i hope to have some day. we hugged at the back door. he had found some work paying $1 an hour. he was happy with that. modesty and a willingness to forgive himself. he had those qualities last night. a quiet determination. not showy, not boisterous. he took small things out of his breast pocket for children and put them aside. we sat on his bed knowing this would be it. i woke up.

my father died in 1973, but like indian spirits through the ages he has been returning mostly at night so that i can carry him in a new way during the day. he is a welcome presence, he is changing even now. i love him so much.

mom, january 14th, 2009

mr. lawrence, 2009

this is mr. lawrence, phillip's grandfather, 17 years after i first met him. the neighborhood around him has changed dramatically since katrina. i notice the trees are missing, the beautiful plum. there's less shade, less green. and there is a drug house next door. "young people, goin' down that wrong road. only lead to trouble. smokin' that weed. lead to that white stuff, then that her-oin....i see some 80 year old still lookin' for that fix. say you can't go down that wrong road, don't lead nowhere". he's friendly with everyone, and they shoot him an 'alright mr. lawrence', but he keeps a wary eye on the traffic continually pulling up out front. he lends a man a few dollars, a man he knows who comes up to his fence. then watches as the man tries to casually head next door. he just looks at me with these sad and knowing eyes, eyebrow raised with a little smile, as if to say, 'whatcha gonna do?'. our neighbor vera died during katrina and was buried in a makeshift grave at the corner of jackson and philip st. it made the national news. her partner, max, died shortly after. they say he just couldn't go on without his vera. i can still hear her voice ringing through the french doors as i tried to sleep in. it all seems just a bit harsher now. mr lawrence is still doing work on his home. he has removed trees, is planting trees, and is working on his front porch. his magnolia, "it was all hollowed out. coulda fit you and me up in there. coulda been a threesome up in there". he is the same man, softened some by the years, the children, the grandchildren. the light in his eyes, his face shines when he smiles. just like philip, his grandson. the doctor won't let him drive anymore so he feels a bit stuck on his property...but there's always work to do. in that way he has not changed, he works. he had open heart surgery and shows me the scar. then he brings out his pictures from a trip to washington state, where he went to see his sister. his pictures are of houses there, houses that he liked. and some of his sister's house and his sister, and the mountains. he brings me in and shows me his father, handsome in uniform in ww1, who would be 107 if he was alive.

i'm hoping i get to go back soon to visit again and show him some of the pictures i've got for him.

i love photography, yes i do, 2009

my new favorite photograph

bike kill, new years eve day, 2008

liz liz liz

christmas morning, irish channel, 2008

mama jensen, second line, in the 9th ward, 2008