“Photograph” a poem by Allan Andre

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One of the most amazing things about living in New York is the world of unknown possibility  that awaits outside your doorstep. You never know what you may find on a walk to a cafe, or what adventure awaits by taking a different commute home. You never know who you’re going to run into on Houston and Elizabeth st or what new thing you’ll discover by just being out in the world of Manhattan. I was running errands, walking through Union Square from Fishs Eddy to The Strand when I saw a darling man alone with his typewriter, very lost in thought. He asked me for a word, something with meaning, so I said “Photograph“, and this is what he wrote for me on that crisp fall day…

 

 a favorite photograph, 

                            to be shared again and again.

the light,   the texture,

                     give it strength.

  where is the eye?

             the shattered remnant of a

        perfect seeing, 

                                the ghost of a life well lived.

 the angles, the framing,

         give it context.

                 where is the absence?

  who has witnessed

               such a heart-rending deficit,

                                  such a need,

            an urgency to possess?

                               where is the photograph?

does anyone imagine

                               they are less than sacred?

           touch it up, then;

                                 show what you can.

 

 

 

– allan andre

    9/20/13