The following is a set of images that I have created and have selected as illustrations for Dr. Paul Tucker's poems
GENESIS
In the beginning, there was never a beginning,
there had been an ending and a pause,
and the explosion.
Infinite density moved apart
from the one point, the everything- nothing
it began.
matter, flame, substance,
whirling shapes without form and void,
and darkness was on the face of the deep.
Then light, water, life,
simple, complex, multiplying,
then hunger, anger, fear and wonder,
millions of years beauty and wonder,
millions of years of dreaming and wonder,
and then the limit,
when it began to come together.
And still there was beauty and wonder,
and then just beauty, unseen,
it collapsed
to that one point, the everything- nothing,
the end of time.
And then a pause
and the explosion.
FOR THERESA
Her face is old though it belies her years,
clear-eyed, strong of will if not of frame,
as old as Oklahoma
with all the curiosity of a child.
Looking as though the wind could lift her up,
her feet are planted squarely on the ground.
I listen when she speaks.
When she is gone, and I am very old,
I will still listen.
MIRACLES
A soft dark thing
Hangs from the mouth
Of my gray tiger,
rescued it seems,
then climbs my pants
to cling to my belt,
a flying squirrel.
Born in these woods
it glided noiselessly in the dark,
unseen,
now gliding slowly to that greater night.
How many quiet miracles
move in that darkness?
FORESTS
Massive trunks,
the sky a canopy of leaves,
dark brown earth.
They say
this must be saved
for our grandchildren.
When we are gone,
children, grandchildren,
all gone,
I hope there will be forests,
trees, vines
covering our cities
a right to remain,
not for grandchildren
not for anyone.
I think,
if I were God,
the forest would have been
my favorite thing.
FROM AN AIRPLANE
From my high window
I can see the clouds,
the white floor reaching out
perhaps a hundred miles.
Sometimes cloud mountains
soar above the plains,
or holes like lakes where I can
see the ground.
And all of this,
the magic wonder of it all,
will vanish in a day.
THIS MUCH
Here in the vortex of time
my indecision whirls about,
twisting, stopping, changing,
still ending in my doubt.
Beyond the veil of nothing
and the ending of my years,
after love and sorrow,
after smiles and tears,
this much I can be sure of,
the greatness of the trees,
the glory of the sunset,
the power of the seas,
this much I know.
INTENTIONS
What do I want from you?
Not some fine dinner served with elegance,
not witty conversation, bantered back and forth,
not even passion.
What do I want from you?
I want to hold you gently, fully clothed,
I want to feel your hands upon my back,
to look straight into your eyes,
up close,
and know.
IT WASN’T SO MUCH
And it wasn’t so much the books you read,
it wasn’t so much the way you smiled,
it wasn’t so much the things you said
as the things you didn’t say,
the way you looked at me,
the games we used to play.
It wasn’t so much the things you knew,
it wasn’t so much the way you looked,
it wasn’t the things that you could do,
but the things you asked of me,
and your gentle sloppy kiss,
and the faults you didn’t see.
I loved you even then,
when you were
awkward, shy.
I love you even now,
when you have said goodbye,
always have, always will.
Dr. Tucker and I are working on the publication of this book of poems which we hope will be done before the end of the year.
Soon I will have a sample of the general look of the publication.
