Sunday, March 29, 2015

Good Morning Justin

Letter to  my Son
Sunday, 29 March

Good Morning Justin…

I’m not one to find a reason to stop long in Las Vegas.  I feel similar about Myrtle Beach.  Both places, though, are wildly popular.  On that basis alone they serve a real need.  And then there's the pleasure of finding colorful people at colorful places.

Some days seem far richer than others. 

He’s walking up a hill away from the downtown library.  His satchel filled with books. 

Occasionally the rug gets pulled out from under us.  If we are lucky we discover that falling on our ass doesn’t hurt as bad as we thought.

Sort of having a good time in an odd sort of way.

Every time I write a letter I wonder how big to blow up the balloon.  I suppose it deserves to be no bigger than the thoughts I have to give.  A letter need only express a simple feeling to make it worthwhile.  Each letter I send always starts with I’m thinking of you.


© Tom Taylor  All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Good Morning Jacob

Letter to my Son
Sunday, 22 March

Good Morning Jacob…

I’m due back here once again.  The last visit had only the sound of a raven passing overhead.

The winds had flags flapping furious that afternoon.  I snooped all about the abandoned fuel stop. 

Desert sun reveals our every action as though caught by a strobe flashing away the dark.  OK, not really.

A gas station a hundred miles from anywhere rejoices in simple expressions of humanity.

Freed from the confines of home we let our eyes wander and our minds wonder.

One day let me see pictures from your thoughts.  Would you say good pictures always pose for us a question?


© Tom Taylor   All Rights Reserved.

Friday, March 20, 2015

Mojave Images

The summer desert is often warm even as the sun rises.

Ancient farm relics and abandoned travel stops are slow to decay.

A morning freight passes through Needles on its way to LA.

© Tom Taylor.  All Rights Reserved.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Good Morning Jeremy

Letter to my Son
Wednesday, 18 March

Good Morning Jeremy...

                 I believe love is the means of traveling outside oneself.  
                 No need to go far to get a good view.
                 I bought the movie Being Flynn.  Robert De Niro's character reminds me
                 a bit of myself.  I gladly hold onto a couple of those attributes.


© Tom Taylor   All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Good Morning Jack

Letter to my Son
Sunday, 15 March

Good Morning Jack…

Saturday was a day to become reacquainted with the ocean even though it rained off and on through the day and into the night.

One of the stories of the day was a bird’s life ending.  It’s body returned by the sea to the shore for further processing.

Deer are plentiful in the Carolinas making night trips on rural roads hazardous.  It doesn’t take much to flush these animals into a panic run.

As of April 1 no more dogs on the beach.  It’s time for the offspring of sea turtles to hatch and make their hazard-filled scurry for the water’s edge.

The shoreline is a nature preserve right up to the back of people’s homes.

This is the small seaside town of Kure Beach.  It’s pronounced kind of like the dinner dish curry but actually more like cure-ee.

There are stretches of marsh scattered throughout the area.

The trees grow bent from constant ocean wind.  Their bark is green with lichen.

Yes it was rainy but it was warm enough for this mom to chase her son up the beach.

A good number of birds come to Kure Beach for the seafood.

You know how problems are better handled when thought through on an early morning walk along the surf.

Wetsuits are a must if you’re going to enjoy surfing in Carolina March water.

Yeah, I've already mentioned the trees but these two make a good couple.  And you know with trees it’s almost always not until death do they part .

This one seemed alone even though he reached out to those around him.

There’s a definite downside to being a tree.  For one thing you exist but you probably don’t know it.  You’re stuck in one spot forever so it doesn’t much matter whether you are aware of your surroundings.  What’s the point of being a plant?  Life is of no consequence to you because there is no you to you.  You’re thoughtless wood and leaves.

At least that’s what we think now.  But if there are other forms of intelligence than ours in the universe we probably wouldn’t recognize it, either.  Here’s a thought.  Imagine the Earth subjugated by aliens from outer space who weren’t smart enough to pass our SAT test.  They’d brush us off by saying our way of thinking is primitive and irrelevant to them.  Our thoughts are quaint, along the lines of sticking pins in voodoo dolls.


© Tom Taylor  All rights reserved.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Thursday AM

          what is it about a naked human form 
               directly in front of you?

                painters take on human nudity
                 musicians write of love
                 writers talk about relationships


           we all visit the same neighborhood
               but constraints fashion our response.

            painters can portray love 
               but music does it better.

            writers can describe nakedness 
               but we'd rather see for ourselves.

            we each have a persuasion 
               about the human form
               and what it means to us.

© Tom Taylor  All rights reserved.

Monday, March 9, 2015

Small Town South

It's Sunday.  

The afternoon streets are nearly empty of people.  The first stop is Mount Pleasant, a crossroads town in North Carolina.  The day is warm and sunny.  Winter has come to an end on the day our clocks spring forward.

A few miles further down the road is the old brick village of Albemarle.  There are tall grain elevators near the tracks on the town's edge.  

A town big enough to have a courthouse is big enough to afford a memorial to the Confederate soldiers of the Civil War.  This memorial honors those who showed up and fought from Stanly County, North Carolina.

© Tom Taylor


Sunday, March 8, 2015

Good Morning Jessicca

Letter to my Daughter
Sunday, 8 March

Good Morning Jessicca…

I’m a bit absent-minded when I draw. 

It’s like I want to tell a story but I can’t find the narrative.

The words escape me, so I settle for this, a vague notion – a doodle.

Here’s a portrait of parents at the swing set.

One day out of the blue I saw something extraordinary in Little Miss Muffet.

I feel life must be going well for you.   You've always been engaged with people.  You’re someone who would invest their time in the welfare of others.  You care.  That’s what’s important.


© Tom Taylor