June 29, 2009

Photographs of my ...
By Jaclyn Sollars

I have a little book of photography for sale. I'd love it if you'd come take a look.

June 21, 2009

Sometimes I find myself
still in the grips of your
schoolyard poetry;
your voice, grit in my memory.
The feel of your hands,
cool and dry and boney hard,
has stayed on the palms of my

In my head
I've confused you
with the other ones too often
and I'm sorry for that.
You were a different story
altogether, all the time.

Then, there were a thousand
summers in every summer.
There were a thousand words
in your mouth for me.
But how often those words
were about me I cannot say.

On July nights we would
drive from my house to yours;
from your house to mine-
all the fireflies like stars in the wheat.

June 13, 2009

because that's what makes it beautiful

Originally uploaded by Jaci Sue
I was standing in this little log church that was built in the early 1800s and it was just starting to rain. There was a glassless window there and I leaned out to see how hard it was coming down and I saw this; this perfect light.

There is something in these things that we see every day that holds magic. To name it would be useless. It's been here all this time and hasn't needed a name yet.

June 5, 2009

There's an angel that nests in the tree of life

There was a man in Tennessee who lost his wife in mysterious circumstances. He was so struck by her death, so aggrieved, that he (who had never done anything like it before) took up a hammer and a chisel and began to carve her a grave stone.
On the cross is the tree of life and atop the tree is an angel. On the left side of the cross it says "truth" and on the right, "life".
The stone was found unfinished by the tree in which he hung himself.