The 60-Second Sabbath

Photography

  • The Unfolding

    What Willy apprehendsas he trots toward mewith his prolonged, staccato meow,is not a past, present and future,but a steady allness,an isness that encloses self, me, his brother, my partner Tim,    the wood floor below, the kitchen counter above,without division or distinction,in… Continue reading

  • Stopped Dead

    Stopped dead between headstones,dry leaves drifting over my shoes,I scan, rescan the engraved letters.This century-old epitaph could be mine. I feel like Scrooge sighting along the bony fingerof his future ghost. Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All… Continue reading

  • Dawn in the Garden of Eden

    "My first morning," she says,mostly to herself,mostly to hear her voice again. The rain has stopped.She inhales:so many scents!She can't yet sort them out,but soon she will–animal musk,wet soil,apple blossoms,her own skin… She grins with pleasure,and doing so,startles herself–her first… Continue reading

  • My Face

    My face,empty at the table like a white china plate,waits for supper.From the kitchen,silence. Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.   Continue reading

  • Summer in the Garden of Eden

    So hot.Naked is good when you sweat this much.He climbs the tree in search of a breeze.Ah, here it is.Sunlight through leaves patterns his brown skin. He sighs for companionship.Where is that snake?Of all the animals,the one with words. Much… Continue reading

  • Codeine

    A root canal and a bottle of Tylenol 3: I take two. About 30 minutes later, life is so very good. Oh how I love my cats, my partner, my family members (both dead and alive) and the space I… Continue reading

  • One Afternoon in the Garden of Eden

    "If we're not going to eat the fruit," she says,"we may as well use the wood." "Dock for the lake," he suggests. "Diving board!" she adds. "Canoe." "Paddles." They get to it,    lopping limbs,    breaking branches,    chopping at the trunkHard work, but satisfying–easy… Continue reading

  • The Purpose of Poetry

    The purpose of poetry?     To awaken compassion,    unseat the ego,    encapsulate experience,    startle the heart,    reconcile our disparate selves,    focus attention,    grapple with God,    heal,    open windows,    further the journey,    surrender,    embrace the other,    sidestep convention,    engage the senses,    break open the heart. The purpose of spirituality?     All of the above. Text and image… Continue reading

  • Already Present

    God is already presentand always will be.My prayer won't change that.My praise won't change that. I open my eyes:    He is there.I open my cupboard:    She is there.I open my front door:    It is there.I open:    All is there. Text and image © 2011… Continue reading

  • Your One Life

    You have established your one life;have you secured itor skewered it? This midwinter warmup,this promising breeze(a premature escapee of spring)urges:"Cut loose!Cut yourself loose!" Whose voice is this, really?If the voice of God, hoist anchor.If your soul, pull up the stakes.If… Continue reading