mirror doesn't lie

no matter 

how long 

I hold my 

gaze, 

my reflection 

simply 

won't 

blink 

first.

Poem  © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo  © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo of R. Baker taken by R. Baker

horizon consumed

on the 

Parkway 

a tiny 

point of horizon

consumed the 

pavement 

faster than

I could drive,

more quickly 

than the sun

setting 

in my

eyes.

Poem © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo taken on Ontario  State Parkway, NY,

2009 by R. Baker.

years rounded

subdued light 

on faces at night

shines years rounded down;

a mediator between 

youth

and not youth. 

at least

'til

morning. 

__________________________________________

the bar 

red light bulbs 

hanging by wires:

the bar 

smoothes life

between 

wrinkles of 

empty 

faces. 

Poem "years rounded" © 2007 by R. Burnett Baker 

Poem "the bar" © 1988 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo by R. Baker© 2007

Shoe Without

shoe without

this morning 

I was annoyed 

by a hole 

in my

sock.

today on 

the beach 

I found 

a shoe 

without a 

foot, 

wet

and cold

as 

stone. 

Poem © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo taken by R. Baker  on Lake Ontario, 

off Ontario State Parkway near Holley, NY, 

November 18,2009.

time for shadows

before I'm ready

a November sun 

is low on 

the day's horizon.

little time for 

warmth; 

little time for 

shadows or 

reflections.

Poem © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo © 2004 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo take by R. Baker in Redwood Forest, 

California, 2004. 

for tomorrow

don't know 

what you think

of me now,

when you think,

or if you do.

can't imagine 

not having you 

on my mind 

or in my plans 

for tomorrow 

or next week. 

for weeks

I've restrained

my impulse

to see you;

it's been months

since desire 

drove me 

from my 

senses.

I sleep soundly

not knowing. 

Poem © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Colorized photo taken by R. Baker of  an oil

on cardboard painting by Ina Jean Garner, circa 1980's.

affection's bondage

for so long I wrote of you;

of my self absorption with us

and now I write mostly of 

tulips, ducks, waking up to pee.

I think of you less often

and with little agony,

anxious only to understand 

why this is now so and 

how long it will last; 

how steadfastly I'll remain

liberated from affection's bondage,

and whether I'll be able to 

walk away from you 

next time we meet 

without lingering 

or looking 

back. 

Poem © 2007 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo © 2008 by R. Burnett Baker 

eyes falling

wither roses,

color maple leaves,

brittle the twigs

of trees shedding seasons;

time to steam 

cinnamon and cider

for chilled walks 

and frost-turning 

evenings;

for eyes falling 

on night's 

repose. 

Poem © 2007 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo © 2007 by R. Burnett Baker 

red against snow 

I've never 

seen a 

cardinal 

in winter, 

red against 

snow. 

I'll search

this year 

for that 

moment of

brilliance on 

white. 

Poem © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Snapping Up the Moment

It's a gray November day.  Finally I have time off from the madness of work.  At home there's a welcomed silence.  Today I saw the first snowflakes of the season taunting my dislike of what's to come in the months ahead:  The cold, the ice, the snow, and winds that suck the breath out of your soul.  

Windy autumn days are stripping leaves very quickly.  In summer I look out my bedroom window to see green leaves on old shade trees, and squirrels occasionally chasing each other across branches.  It occurs to me that I don't take advantage of that scene nearly enough. We're so quick to grab the camera and take hundreds of photos of colorful, dying leaves, snapping up the moment as if color will never behold us again.  

Yet, it's the same every year, every season.  A couple of years ago I was sitting at this very window in autumn and one squirrel was chasing life;  scrambling for food to store before there was none left. Looking out the window we came face to face: 

sat a squirrel 

on second floor branches 

outside my window 

sat a squirrel. 

the leafless tree 

and he 

staring at my face 

in disbelief. 

I suppose that's one reason we're compelled every autumn to snap photos of leaves:  Disbelief.  Disbelief that the rest of the year has been spent chasing life, and with little pause to let the silence nurture our souls year round.  Disbelief that the falling of autumn can be so brilliant and yet so swift.  

Camera or not:  We all need to be snapping up the moments every day.  And rather than chasing life, we should let life chase us. 

Rick B. Baker 

Rochester, NY 

November 6, 2009

  

one eye opened 

my face

an 

ancient fresco

chiseled on 

a wall:

its story

known by 

chipped stone 

and 

one eye 

opened 

to the ages. 

Poem © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Poem "sat a squirrel" © 2006 by R. Burnett Baker

homeless leaves

daylight

fades

autumn

falls

my solitude

unveiled 

by feet 

shambling

through 

homeless leaves. 

Poem © 2009 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo © 2006 by R. Burnett Baker 

Photo taken by R. Baker in Highland Park, 

Rochester, NY 2006.