changing leaves
TRANSCRIPT
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CHANGINGL E A V E SPoems by LORI L. GRADY
Photography by ELSA FLORES
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Human beings, as a g
unless they find some way
out and find someone who
emotional way. We all loo
our stories.
For me, words and m
place where we are all one.
front of my bathroom mirr
as I went along. It seems o
and poetry. I cant even re
my mouth as water from a
For my partner Elsa
Born in the United States t
spoke only Spanish as a ch
an alien, not understanding
she began to read, write a
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as if it suddenly took on th
pleasure of being there, se
made me feel, and then see
share with someone than g
I dont know if her lo
purposely chosen a non-ve
by her extraordinary skill a
things she was saying. She
to write a story about each
it exposes its essence. She
else how she sees the world
I have seen her photos hund
the composition, even pond
feel and yet never, until thi
to understand her message
Another interesting
to put my poetry with her When I started looking at t
make, I was amazed at how
Most of my poetry, especi
times Ive sat down with th
fail miserably. They end u
problem, one that would not even be recognized until adulthooddyslexia. When
she was in school in the seventies this word didnt even exist in the consciousness
of modern society.
So embarrassed and frustrated by her inability to communicate, she would
hide behind her friends or bully people into submission. At the very least, no one
would make fun of her when she spoke. Perhaps this is why the voice she chose was
photography.
We were sitting on our couch, cozy at home one evening, discussing our ideas
for this book, when she began to describe to me the reasons she took all of the pictures
we have hanging on our walls. This one I took for you, because its a place that meant
something to you. This one started out as the cheesy, dilapidated old boat picture
everyone has, but when I printed it, I realized it was really a portrait of your Aunt
Faye. This one is more for me, because I was trying to capture what I saw that day
we walked at the lake. Bingo, I thought. All this time I had known her and never
realized just how much she was reallyexpressing with her photographs, especiallyher personal favorites. Its similar to someone who is blind developing such a keen
sense of sound they can pick up on things no one else can hear.I thought back to the day we were walking on that trail. We talked throughout
the whole walk that day about what we were seeing and feeling. A lot of it was just
fun stuff you say, look at that tree, it looks like a hunched over old man from this
angle, that kind of stuff. I remember her pointing out the way the light was hitting
this tree, but when I now looked at the picture shed taken of what she saw, it was
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only been in the last two days that I found out this is how Haikus are supposed to
be written. Its a Zen Buddhists way of coming to an understanding of man and
nature.
Perhaps this is why our works came together so effortlessly. They are just
two different forms of the same process- trying to capture the essence of nature. It
could also be as simple as the reason we both fell in love in the first place. We are
two minds that think similarly about the world around us. Whatever the reasons,
this has been a wonderfully fulfilling and rewarding experience. Truly the end result
has shown to be more than the sum of its parts. This is why we have tried to present
the end product in a very simple and Zen-like structure. We hope you enjoy the end
result as much as we loved creating it.
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CHL E
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Ligh
A liv
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Haiku
Heavenly bodies
Swirling clouds of hot gases
Beauty created
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W
I sh
Kn
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My world
Swirls together generations
Whittles youth into future
Clings to memory to
Whisper who I am
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Summ
Dis
W
T
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The Tao of Music
The universe fills my essence
With the presence of violins
Weeping Mozart
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I g
An
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Regret
Mournful reflections
Crumble deep within
Creeping among shadows
Slipping upon murky, mildew morning
Decay inside the bottled sands
Of memories
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A bu
Provokin
Ev
Ins
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Dulled Senseless
I had been lonely for so long
I barely noticed
The barren landscape of my soul
The strongest tendrils still searching
For a flood of affection
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Hang
F
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Alone in the mist
Foggy afternoons
Grope my subconscious
Seeking an eternity of
Cold gray eyes
To laugh at my frailty