Poetry
This will soon be edited to display little tidbits of writing from over the years, but for now, just this, an old fragment written in the Spring of 2002…
Feet treading lightly
in an attempt to evade
the slow rise of wooden floorboards
in crackling resistance.
Walls are masked by dim rays of electric lights
making their way around corners of walls
held in silent embrace.
Wet blankets
shroud the old worn paint
of uneven wood doors.
The air remains still,
saturated with
suspended water.
The Photographer
(for Peter Thompson)
to thank you for the wonderful photograph of Humphrey Meadows
His focus is less on the camera and tripod
than on the varying shades of filtered light
as he focuses the lens and measures time
The interplay between that which is visible and
the invisible source of its illumination his concentrated delight
and the technical tools necessary to capture
what will always remain free and beyond the grasping of his trade
patiently as day precedes and follows day
searching and waiting
for the moment proper to release the revelation
still
the air clouds trees and grasses
are transferred and transformed
through the mirrors of simulation
and exactitude
from the initial essential presence
to that of an image
reproduced reality of another degree
reflecting and remembering in our inner-city living room
the contemplation of the original quiet and solitude
filling fulness of soul
Pierre LeBel
Montreal
July 8, 2005