[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

Fractured Songs
---- Big Frank Dickinson

They tell me their stories of broken hearts;
I record them with sympathetic nods,
While secretly taking notes of cracks unseen -
The futility of their fractured dreams.

The unobtainable objects of desire;
In their hands or at their door,
The bodies sated, the will wants more
Than circumstances or they can give.

Then they hear my story and with incredulity
Ask if I confused persuasiveness with please;
The order of those words no more compelling than
Stripped emotions flung as tunes to the wind.

It's all music; melodies gone wrong
The harmony soon confined to the ears
Of one who hears nothing but the thud
Of a gong, cacaphony mistaken for song.

The Three of Hearts

Three Hearts on the run, having fun at Capone's - as one!

Scratch . . . . what?

Scratch
---- Big Frank Dickinson

“And will you be eating?” she asked,
Without really waiting for an answer,
Placing the utensils athwart the napkin,
Not pausing for our “No”.

We were drinking, not eating;
Talking, not marking time;
And we started by remarking on
The 50-ish aged inhabitants of this joint.

We were a pretend couple,
Although, they couldn’t have know that;
And it never occurred to us that any of them
Were anything less than bona fide partners,

Half of whom had, according to you,
Minor but extensive renovations: face lifts,
Tucks and stretchings that had left them looking
Much younger and anxious than their hims,

The majority of whom had come to ignore
Their hairless domes and drooping paunches,
But not their beloved scrunches of satisfaction,
Who each in turn, turned to compare the

Amount of hair that was there
On their formerly, what was it that
Had been said – long time before?
In his day quite the head turner; but

Now it was she that turned her head -
Away, not so much in search, as in
Acceptance of the admiration of
What he remembered had once been there.

Her stare glanced off our table,
And it left us wondering if we
Were pretend to her, or some
Memory of what had been.

[Photos: Big Frank Dickinson]

Ekphrastic photo on Paterson's "Rain"

[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

Big Frank has written a considerable amount of ekphrastic poetry. Most on Edward Hopper Poems that Big Frank wrote poems to accompany. Now Big Frank turns it all around. Once again, he has taken a photo in an ekphrastic expression of the poem. He woke up this morning to a hard rain on his roof. Big Frank loves the sound, the drumming of the drops of the rain (heavy and repeating) on the wooden roof of his home. He thought of "Rain" by Don Paterson, which he had just read the night before. So he grabbed his camera and on his way to work (yes, Big Frank does have a day job) he shot photos and the one above is the one he thought most evocative of this poem.

RAIN
by Don Paterson

I love all films that start with rain:
rain, braiding a windowpane
or darkening a hung-out dress
or streaming down her upturned face;

one long thundering downpour
right through the empty script and score
before the act, before the blame,
before the lens pulls through the frame

to where the woman sits alone
beside a silent telephone
or the dress lies ruined on the grass
or the girl walks off the overpass,

and all things flow out from that source
along their fatal watercourse.
However bad or overlong
such a film can do no wrong,

so when his native twang shows through
or when the boom dips into view
or when her speech starts to betray
its adaptation from the play,

I think to when we opened cold
on a rain-dark gutter, running gold
with the neon of a drugstore sign,
and I’d read into its blazing line:

forget the ink, the milk, the blood—
all was washed clean with the flood
we rose up from the falling waters
the fallen rain’s own sons and daughters

and none of this, none of this matters.

From Paterson's book "Rain"

[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

Don Paterson has a new collection of poetry out entitled "Rain'>. It is a beautiful collection of poems - both gorgeous on the surface, and probing in its depths. Big Frank encourages all of you to go buy this - if you buy one book of poetry this year buy this. Here is one poem out of it.

The Rain at Sea
by Don Paterson

Aye, maybe I did resent
your home in every element.
But did you know, when you were one

with the dance or dive or ride or run
and lost to water, earth or air
how lost you were to me? Or care?

Let me tell you how it was.
We'd stopped four miles outside Montrose
to let the southbound train slip by.

It was evening, and the sea and sky
were one blue flag, with no design
but for the darker bluer line

where the upper rested on the lower,
and one small cloud ten miles offshore.
The cloud had drawn up to a halt

to leave the sea a gram less salt.
It poured down on no rock or ship
but just upon its own dark shape,

combing out its rain like wool,
like a girl her hair above a pool;
or else (all I could do was sit

before the scene, and worry it)
the sea reached up invisibly
to milk the ache out of the sky.

While I was reckoning the strange
intimate far-off exchange,
the feeling took an age to name.

It was an awful creeping shame.
Nothing on earth was ever less
concern of mine than that caress,

if such a human word would do
for what I saw; and worse, I knew
the whole sea fixed me in its stare.

How did I blunder into here?
There would be all hell to pay.
I turned and shut my eyes and lay

my head against the growling glass
and waited for the train to pass.

Weeds, Back pain, and Bikes

[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

Big Frank is back on the bike. OK, OK, he said that earlier, but then he was off. Killing weeds led to a killing pain in Big Frank's back. Why didn't someone tell him that you don't have to bend over to kill the weeds; there is no need for very close inspection of each weed. OK, Big Frank knows this now. The shadow is now in front of him; no, that's not right - it should be behind him. No matter, he is riding again. Sunday is the Lilac Century and Big Frank is doing half a century ride - that's enough, his back says. He'll be riding in the morning, and heading west so his shadow will be behind him, as it should be.

Around Newman Lake in 80 minutes (more or less)

Spring is here, and that means the bicycle is out and the miles are being counted off. Big Frank and Robin rode around Newman Lake this morning. It was raining and the hills on the north and west sides of the lake were painful, but the ride was wonderfully refreshing - especially when it was over! This is only the beginning - the rides will now pile up on each other in quick succession and fill this summer with great memories.

Beyond Belief

[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

"I've got a feeling I'm going to get a lot of grief
Once this seemed so appealing
Now I am beyond belief"
---- Elvis Costello

Big Frank has been laying out some of his beliefs, and connecting them with photos, mostly of clouds because they reflect each other in many ways. This post will start with the photo of the clouds. Big Frank took this photo at 40,000 feet - above the clouds. Here, unlike the others, he is looking down on the clouds. So it would seem that a matching post on a view from above belief would be appropriate.

Above belief, is usually not said. Big Frank has heard 'beyond belief', meaning it would be hard to believe that, but that it is, in fact, true. For example, "The idea that someone in this country could be persecuted for their religious beliefs is beyond belief; yet that is exactly what happened last week in . . ." Truth beyond belief, that's the theme. So what does Big Frank have to say on that?

It is beyond belief that people lament having done certain things, see the wisdom in not repeating them, and vow never to that thing again; and then . . . go out and do that exact thing again. I believe that this happens over and over and over again. It is also beyond belief that there is no proof of any over riding plan, no blueprint with individual collisions with other people, no charting of circumstantial collections of illnesses, lucky coincidences, and chance enounters; yet, people - millions of them - believe that they are uniquely singled out by some grand architect, and uniquely have their life arranged, as is always the case (or so they believe, beyond belief), for the better. It is beyond belief that the cliche, "it's all good", is actually thought to be true; despite the undeniable fact that not all of everything is good. If it were there would be no need for the thought of a place like heaven where one could in truth say (and have it be true beyond belief) that of that place: "it's all good."

More than you think (I Believe)

[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

What's with the clouds and belief, you might ask; well, Big Frank is asking. Good question. Beliefs are connected to all that's around them. Like clouds they don't exist in isolated containment apart from everything else. And like clouds they shift and change; sometimes it seems like there aren't any, and at other times they almost seem to oppressively weigh down on us. They can take on beautiful configurations, or can bring destruction to those who come in their path. Is that enough parallels? How about one more (I like this last one): beliefs, like clouds, are sometimes hugely present but not seen, or acknowledged. And with that it's time to move on to some more of Big Frank's beliefs.

Big Frank believes that the backdrop to life is so much more magnificently intricate than anyone can imagine. He believes that the images, outlines, and explanations of 'reality' are so pale in comparison to what is actually behind and in all that we encounter as to beggar description. He believes that beauty can infuse life, is ever present, palpably near, but often unrecognized. To see the beauty of life is to look away from one's peripheral noise, and in so doing to refresh one's energy, outlook, and purpose. Big Frank believes that the contradiction inherent in looking out to see within is only matched by truth of the statement that when one looks deep enough within, the view goes outward. Both views reflect each other. Is that a contradiction? Big Frank believes that doesn't matter.

I Believe (part II)

[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

Big Frank called his first posting on Belief a beginning and that presupposes that something else will follow just as surely as the fact that an ending will have something that precedes it. This is not an ending, or, for that matter, a beginning; it is a continuation of belief.

Big Frank believes that the eyes do not lie, that touch carries emotion, that the initial taste of another usually does not improve, and that how you taste to others will forever remain as much a mystery to you as your smell, for trying to take that in is like trying to smell your own breath. Big Frank believes that breath is the subtle spirit of control, the connection between you and everything else, and the much ignored secret key. He believes that the key to control is patience, delay, and releasing yourself from the belief that you can determine outcomes. He believes that the ultimate questions are of no relevance; that metaphysics is as irrelevant as astrology. He believes that the larger the question the less likely that its answer will ever be known, much less have any effect on your life. Big Frank believes that what you do tomorrow is of much greater significance to you than the answer to the question: what happens when I die?

Here it comes!

[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

Big Frank has been thinking (Yeah, I know . . . ) about the previous post (belief and cloud). That cloud had the kind of form and texture that somehow reminded him of "belief". Big Frank is not quite sure what the image of belief would be, but it could be somewhat like that pyramidal cloud - it could! That cloud, by the way - the one in the previous post - was perched on the ridge to the north of Yakima. So perhaps Yakima is some kind of seat of belief? Who knows. Or, maybe more accurately, Yakima is beneath belief, or underbelieved, or on the edge of belief? Maybe the latter fits best!

The above photo (no photoshopping or doctoring done on it) was an amazing shot taken in Wallace, Idaho many months ago. Big Frank never has figured out what the red flash is or where it came from. However, regardless, and in continuation of the above paragraph linking clouds to abstract ideas, what idea would this represent? Big Frank thinks perhaps it is "realization". Look how it comes and how it changes everything!

What I Believe (the beginning)

[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

Big Frank was recently asked by an aquainance about his beliefs. This got him thinking - what are his beliefs? Many people answer this question by reference to a set of beliefs - saying, for example, that they are Christians, Jewish, Hindu, agnostic, atheist, etc. However, this is, Big Frank thinks, a kind of copout because it give some basic outline (very basic for most people) of some kind of metaphysical belief system, but what about all the other beliefs? The entire list must be very long indeed. So how about giving it a shot (keeping in mind that this could take quite some time, and that it may not be possible to list all ones beliefs)? Here's the beginning of Big Frank's (the beginning - just the beginning):

I believe that I am responsible for my own actions, thoughts, and feelings. I don't believe that my feelings are thrust upon me through the actions of others, or erupt from some unknown center in my being. I believe feelings follow thoughts and that we choose our thoughts ourselves. I believe that happiness, while each is dealt a different baseline of it, can be increased through the choices that we make and the actions that follow. One important aspect of that is the network of friends that we maintain; we are social creatures and need to be with other people. I also believe that the people that one spends time with are a reflection of the kind of person that you are; and vice-versa. I believe that the mind is like a dog - it needs to be trained, and that meditation is one of the best ways of doing it. I believe that self-deception and egotism are constant temptations that one does well to avoid. I believe in the golden rule that one should treat other as one wants to be treated. I also believe that the greatest and most difficult love is to truly love and care for oneself - all other love comes from this. I believe in looking over the next hill, around the next bend, and inside one's own pocket. I believe that eternal curiosity leads to eternal growth. I believe that all that we think we truly know is probably wrong, and that is why constant examination and questioning is important because it is through the elimination of what is untrue that we come closer to the truth - never truly arriving, but . . . getting constantly closer. This requires, I believe, an open mind, and avoiding the egotistic attachment a closed world view.

The Frame

[Photo: Big Frank Dickinson]

Outside the Frame
---- Big Frank Dickinson

There are a number of ways in which to frame that,
He thought as she in turn turned to look at how
They looked in the mirror to the others who
Sat outside the frame in which they sat.

Some other way did no more occur to him,
These thoughts were tomorrow’s now,
Just as her presence was from across the room,
Where the view inside their frame was of

A couple who were sought, not caught
By each other, and surprised at how many
Ways that prize could be framed.
How many sizes weren't the same.

Cloud Quiz

Big Frank was on the road yesterday, and above him - towering above him - were some of the most spectacular cloud formations that Big Frank has ever seen. These were cumulous clouds that carried themselves high, traveled in packs, and were everywhere. At first Big Frank thought that this phenomena was only present in the first city - above it that is. Such was not the case - those clouds covered the state of Washington (east of the Cascades). Big Frank had his camera and snapped a bunch of photos. Below are three. OK, here's the deal - name the city above which the clouds hover, and the cloud is yours (first one to name it gets it that is); however, if you missname the city, then the cloud gets you!

Cloud #1.

Cloud #2

Cloud #3

[All photos: Big Frank Dickinson]