Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Friday, January 8, 2010

Ohm






At no other time in my life do I deliberately behave mischievously, surreptitiously, and blatantly disobedient than when I hold a camera in my hands. I apply the notion that asking for forgiveness yields better results than asking for permission. I ignored the signs stating that the Crowell Collection Museum did not allow photography of the monks, and chastised vociferously for taking the top picture. Expecting a scolding, I prepared to act surprised, then follow with my doe-eyed look of remorse, while pretending to turn off my camera and put it away. Other times it works well to snap a picture and then run for safety, but I wanted to remain in the presence of the monks, infusing myself with their good vibes -- and waiting for the first chance to take another picture without offending anybody. Of course, in contrast, being Budhists, the monks smiled and waved at me, forgiving my trespass.

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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.