everything close is close to me
there’s a fondness I have for things near my feet
Thanks rendered to Ren Powell for her intimate photographic essay entitled Left. Observationally brilliant. When this poems first blog started, I’d not thought to include anything other than purely language poems, clean and focused. But I’m coming to recognize the lack-in-generosity of that content filtering. So here this photo image in kin response to Ren’s imagining (my thanks, and while looking for something else, found this cousin of that image and so here presented, in sighted appropriate kind I think).
neil, december 2020
wordswerepoemsfirst.com 
I love it, Neil! I always wanted to be a photographer, but when I was (we were 😉 a teen and in my early twenties when the desire was greatest – not enough money to make a serious effort. About 7 years ago I started taking a photo a day for fun with no intention of sharing anything … my blog was also going to stay image-free and “literary” – but I have come around to thinking that being a poet is about how we look at the world. Pointing to things and saying See! Thank you for pointing to things!
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Yes. Yes. I don’t make a chemistry list of the sense reading you, but there’s the grinding bowl all the same. So oft, ten fingers worth, I hear a voice I want speaking with, this far far conversation (as we said once upon a time). Your last two elemental lines blow me away. What’s distance anyway?
You make me more the writer I want to be.
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