pictures, good pictures, wondering if they mean much to me or much to anyone else for those they capture are mine the pieces of my puzzle no one else but me was there behind the lens behind the bends of the breaking backs moments crashing causing tidal-waves of feeling i am present in some absent in all the continuity is palpable years of flicks and flashes picking passages of time to document i hope someone sees these and feels that they too are present though they are not i hope that those that are present feel omnipresent almost godlike looking upon themselves it is not a mirror but the peering through the looking glass the poormans timemachine bring me back to the time that i found you and you and you all gathered in my kitchen so present so pleasant so candid and genuine i know they are gone but they are here all here all peering into the present to see how far youve come i hope when you look upon them you do not see flaws and imperfections i hope you see light and genuine perception this is the closest we will get to seeing ourselves through another’s eyes do not see this as some surprise i have loved you for so long the songs that play they echo through the day through the glass it passes from lens to lens from ass to end from pig to pen and now to then i see you. perfect and crystalline. just as i left you. i hope you can find me. i hope i am just the same. and if not. i hope it is in the ways that never mattered.