While there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us to see.
Sam Rasnake, a sardonic twist of fate, is a pathetic excuse for a poet who once dreamed he was a human who dreamed he was a teacher who thought he could play guitar. Along the way - a soul-mate, two children - one collection, Necessary Motions; three chapbooks, Religions of the Blood, Lessons in Morphology, and Inside a Broken Clock. He even thinks he edits a magazine - Blue Fifth Review.
3 comments:
thanks for sharing the breathtaking photography of lange, sam! love the quote, too.
a.
Sam, another amazing photograph!
Thanks for the view, Arlene and Rachel.
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