Brown, black, tan, red, yellow
Waiting for
Christian, Muslim, White Supremacist
Waiting for
Anti-gun, anti-religion, perhaps he doesn't like runners
or children, or cats.
Waiting for a description
a motive, a creed
Waiting to find out who we should hate
this time.
some wait to gloat.
When I was a child, at the back of the garage
was a mystery, forbidden, a dark
room where film turned into photos
my father sat at the nexus of chemistry
carefully crafted images, he showed me
how to use a pretty filter,
just the right amount of light,
bring the image up.
This was his vision, what he saw through the camera's lens
to begin with. Before anyone else.
"Can I use your picture for a story?"
My face, an eight year-old, in negative.
the story, on child-abuse;
no one would recognize me.
White was black, black was white
my pupils glowed from the gray pulp-paper.
Wildfires, car wrecks
dead whales on the beach, earthquakes
tragedy, inspiration, crying people, a flood
a spider's web outlined in dew
lightning storms over the city, over the ocean.
My childhood view of the world,
horrific, fascinating, awe-inspiring, beautiful
at a professional distance, like chemicals
in the dark
filtered
dot-matrix images on gray-pulp.
Person of Interest:
white male, black male, Asian male, Arabic
Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Mormon, Janist
waiting to hate
Two-inch high type, gray-pulp, cell-phone videos
Boston Marathon
bright red blood on the pavement, explosion in realtime, and screams
Person of Interest
I see from a Distance.
Kathlean Wolf
16 April 2013
