Thursday, May 31, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
A little tease from todays shoot...
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
Bird- a poem by Erica (Baker) Blair
With a laugh
like a silver dime
rolling down
a telephone line,
she left me
and mama
behind.
I pressed
my eyes
into
my mother's
thigh,
the gravel,
I heard
the gravel.
Bird flew away.
She flew the coop,
mama used to say.
Just like her daddy,
mama used to say.
I was
Bird's baby,
the only one she would ever have.
She would coo me to sleep,
with sweet sparrow songs.
She sang through sobs,
I could hear her heart
against my head, her hands in my hair,
as she held me under her mama bird wing.
Bird was hollow bones and baby's breath.
Bird was big city lights and a fast car.
Bird was everything and nothing at all.
Mama named her Bird
months after birth,
no one knows when
it just appeared one day.
Before that
she was baby,
just baby.
I remember
in third grade,
standing
on the rickety
wooden fence,
when Bird,
spitting
through her teeth
said,
"Nobody's ever gonna call me baby,
never again."
And I believed her then.
The silver wood barn
fell away
in slivers,
but refused
to collapse.
That is where we were,
that is where Bird and I hid,
the day Bird began to bleed.
Bird was a moth seeking a porch light city.
Bird was the downy lining in a prickly stick nest.
Bird was heart and nothing more.
It was that day
that she pricked my finger,
on the pricker-bush
behind the barn.
She made me swear,
swear not to tell mama
about the blood.
That day we buried Jo-Jo,
in her finest dress,
her eyes clicked shut
in the shoebox,
behind the barn.
We left violets
on the soft, brown,
ground for her.
Bird told me to say good-bye,
to say farewell to Jo-Jo.
She told me to kiss the earth,
and I did.
Bird was broken bones and super glue.
Bird was a loaded gun with the trigger half cocked.
Bird was the silver seductress on a pick-up truck mud flap.
Bird used to say
that she would always stay,
to keep me safe.
Bird used to say
that nothing could take her away
from me,
from mama,
from this place.
That was all before I found
the eggshell shards,
the baby bird.
Before I put it
under my shirt,
inside my bra,
next to my heart.
Friday, May 11, 2012
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