I have the feeling that it would be better to repeat a twenty-one-word poem about poems than it would be to try and write an explanation of it:
All the poems
laid out on the page
taking longer than they suggest
on either side
of their equations.
According to Evernote, I wrote this on March 6th, 2011, as the fragment:
Poems laid out on the page are liars.
They take longer then they advertise
on both sides of their equations.
I remember that I was in Florida waiting in the airport to fly home after a business trip; the original has the impatience so characteristic of air travel, but I think I like the edit better.
Andy’s saturated azure photo is either right out of a German performance-car commercial or, more likely, frames a road that leads through the clouds into another world. Here’s the real story right from him:
My wife’s favorite vacation destination is Hawaii and, to be more specific, Maui. For those that have not visited this beautiful island, two volcanic mountains dominate the topography. One of the mountains, Haleakalā, is a US national park and most vacationers to Maui visit it during their stay. On my first visit to Maui, my wife was very excited to take me to the summit of Haleakalā so that I could experience the breathtaking views. I was also excited — until she explained that the best time to visit was at sunrise and that the summit was a three hour drive from our hotel. Being the devoted husband that I am, I agreed to get up at 2:30am so we could experience sunrise at Haleakalā together. The next morning, I found myself standing at the summit in freezing temperatures just before 6am. As the sun was about to rise, a cloud settled over the mountain and I was barely able to see 10 feet. But I could see the disappointment in my wife’s eyes, and I immediately committed to the 6 hour journey again the next morning. We ended up with a perfectly clear day. Was it worth the 12 hours of driving? Absolutely!
This photo is from our second ascent of Haleakalā and was taken from the highest point on the volcano, Red Hill. In the background you can see the lower Magnetic Peak, so named as it has large quantities of iron that interfere with compass readings.
The first thing I realized after reading this photobiography is that all the photos are liars, too.