Wednesday, February 22, 2012

good news

I just received the very good news that a customer wrote a letter to corporate praising my customer service at the frame shop where I work. It was forwarded to both my store manager and the proper corporate department for review. That means that 1. my store manager sees that I'm a valuable employee, 2. my name will appear in the national store newsletter, and 3. the email will be framed and posted on the wall near the frame shop.

Hooray for customers who care enough to submit their praise in writing! It's nice to see that my attempts at kindness, patience, and assistance have paid off.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

another glimpse: Old City Cemetery

I wanted to republish my poem along with an image or two from my recent photo expedition to my favorite local cemetery.

Bodies so ancient,
decayed down to marrow
mere calcium deposits

Jewels hidden beneath
stone, leaves as dead as this
mismatched village of

Warring Americans, witches, noblemen,
teachers, and infants
in their underground rabbit holes

So content, willing the
first leaves of autumn to
toss themselves earthward

In an effort to live
by dying in a patchwork
of sunlight and gray

And we were alive
and these spectres, by way of rustling
Leaves and bird songs, provoked

Us
to really live.







For more photos, check our water lily photo.

Friday, February 3, 2012

Commander

To Commander Howard M. Bosworth, Ruler of the 7 seas:


You were a good fish, a kind fish
And I only truly wish
that I had known more about goldfish care
before Mary won you at the fair. 

You could have lived a full life
20 years or more
who knows what antics and exciting turns
may have been in store

for you

I treated you for swim bladder infection,
indigestion, bacteria, and fin rot
I hoped, I really thought
that you would eventually get better
that you would be with me forever

And now you're gone
And I'm sorry
And I feel I've done you wrong

You were just a little goldfish
you didn't ask for this
you didn't deserve to begin your life as a prize
and finish it, alone, in a dark kitchen
never having seen the sun rise
over a quiet, regulated pond

with your friends and offspring.