Scribble 2

During one of my two deployments to the Persian Gulf, I went through a period where I wrote a lot of short poetic desriptions. I call them that for lack of a better way to describe them. They are not, to me, truly poems on their own, but do contain a sort of poetic nature to them. Either way they are some of my favorite little snippets from my journal. Let me share a few:

• A garden within a cubical
of sidewalk, planted by natures
hand, lends a brilliant venue for expression.

• Sitting on a bench beneath
a shade tree kept me from
howling at the moon.

• A row of trashcans within
a locked enclosure.
Forced recycling?

• In a clutter I dwell between
dirty dishes and the remains of
a long journey.

I know they are a bit odd, but they bring to mind the clearest images of the moment that I captured with them that they will forever hold a fond place to me.
P~

Scribble 1

Digging, always digging.

Shoving the earth around.

Making it better, more functional.

Like plastic surgery on an old woman.


P~
Some time in 1992 while in Saudi Arabia.