Category Archives: Photography

The Place Where We Live, Rock Island

Photographs of Rock Island by Ethel Mortenson Davis

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Kevin Michael Davis

February 16, 1982 – July 23, 2010

Overlook Tower

Arches of Scoria

Arches of scoria,

bridging eye to eye,

we lean back, falling gently. 

Stones like hands

catch our curiosities

at the cusp of a cool wind. 

Delicate branches reach down:

fingers wrapped around supports of light

peering through a passage of silence. 

Our eyes close momentarily,

and the passage inundates with another kind of light. 

The train,

several minutes late – as usual –

leads us to bustling boardwalks and ocean breezes.

Thronged by movement,

silence shies away,

its wisdom stowed between new verbs.

We must pay heed.

For in silence,

the arches collapse into a volcanic flow

and collide into the ocean’s embrace. 

Cool winds carry us, as equals, to stark realities.

Frailty inspires us. 

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Overview of Chaco Canyon Ruins

Photograph by Kevin Michael Davis (Alazanto)

Thinking of Kevin today

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Forget-Me-Nots

Spring Garden and a Poem by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Circle

So fragile the circle

of the earth.

Clouds swirl upon her

in endless feathers.

All life surrenders to her.

She even brings you

back to me.

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Cover Release for Apples for the Wild Stallion

All Things That Matter Press have released the cover for my new novel, Apples for the Wild Stallion. This book was written after my daughter, Sonja Bingen, one day remarked to me, while she was starting to read the first Harry Potter book to Joey, our non-verbal autistic grandson, I have really searched for a book that had a character Joey can relate to in his life, but have had trouble finding any. This cover was done by my ATTMP editor, Deb Harris, who based it on a photograph Sonja did on Joey and a brown mare who resembles Brownie, one of the horses, the one Joey rides, in the novel. The novel is set in the Zuni Mountains of New Mexico on Wrangler Road where Ethel, when lived in Continental Divide, did her daily walk with our dogs. The wild, white stallion of the novel’s title changes Joey’s life, but he returns the favor to the stallion in the story.

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By Alazanto, our son, Kevin Davis

Leo

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All of Us

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

we cannot go
to another planet,
to another earth
in another solar system.
 
We are too late for that,
too far away.
 
Instead, we must
sit down, you and I,
and look into each other’s eyes,
our arms embracing,
before we can save
any of us.
Window

			

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Steps

a photograph by Kevin Michael Davis (Alazanto)

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A Frog and A Pelican

Two photographs by Sonja Bingen

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The Framing

In Memoriam Kevin Michael Davis

Doors at Chaco Canyon photograph by Kevin Davis (2/16/1982 – 7/21/2010)

The Framing” a poem by Richard Brenneman

This is the anniversary of our son’s death in Poughkeepsie, New York from cancer ten years ago. This is always a sad day for Ethel, I, and our daughters, Sonja Bingen and Mary Wood, every year. This blog was started in honor of Kevin, who was a wonderful web designer, photographer, artist, and poet. This year we are publishing one of Kevin’s most iconic photographs, a doorway found at the Chaco Canyon ruins in New Mexico, and Richard Brenneman’s wonderful poem about the photograph, remembering someone who was deeply, deeply loved.

THE FRAMING

by Richard Brenneman

Ekaphrastic poem celebrating the Kevin Davis photograph,  “Doors at Chaco Canyon”  

 I
 
Picture this --
seen through the lens of a camera;
eye sighting perfectly this line of sight, 
image remaining after.
The photographer has entered into
this, his picture.
 
A framing frames the ancient remains,
frame within frame like stone ghosts
from the living to the not living.
 
II
 
During the day, the doors,
like sideways viewed Chinese boxes, point the way
to the sky, or a blank wall
where the lords of death
(or alternatively, the lords of life)
are lodged beyond, whether
in kiva, hogan, teepee,
pyramid -- the mountain of gods.
 
III
 
At night invisible,
you can barely see the framed gates.
Above, the moonlight,
a few stars shine bright:
Polaris, Sirius, Aldebaran.
The gods of old-time
have come for you --
you who framed this image.
Time into framing,
gate, window, doorway --
starlight seeps out
light from unseen life
in sunrise or twilight,
you who sighted this
in your view finder.
 
IV
 
If we look at this image askew,
we can almost see you as shadow,
invisible among
the dust motes, the whirling dervishes
slipping through the frame of time,
the ancient gateways
to join the lords of life, of death
to ascend timeless, bodiless
to the stars,
to become framed
as infinite starshine.

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