"Locus"   [Reflections on Chris Orwig's Book Visual Poetry - Generally] (Eph. 4:11-16; Isaiah 55:8-13; Jeremiah 15:15-21; 30:1-3; John 15 )

The locus of my work, I see, is not the same as his,
And that’s not just because my interest is in land of biz;
I’m sure he’s into business in a way I’ll never be,
For I’m a poet laureate in Giver-Land – not he.

For he’s a photo-maker – bottom line, photography;
He inspiration draws sometimes from lines of poetry;
But if he’d druther do one thing and leave the other out,
He’d grab a camera, go outside, and shoot what’s all about.

Not to me – my world’s inside my head, and heart, and inner sight;
The spiritual is key to me, that base makes all things right;
A “Minister of Word” they said, and word it is indeed –
Slipped under radar it goes off and miracles I see.

Oh yeah, augmented text can help, no doubt about that fact;
Who takes the picture I don’t care, for it augments in back
The meaning of the words I write, the text is base to me;
And someone else can illustrate and bring such books to be.

I know I’m not a craftsman like my brother, though I’ve made
Some punchy pictures in my time, and on the silver laid
Some work that far exceeds my skill’s, innate capacity;
But in the end the output’s low, too low to work for me.

But illustration (digital) is fast, it does the trick;
I wrap off pictures in a sec, then I can quickly pick
The best ones to augment my text, but output is quite low;
Compared to Orwig’s photographs – they’re poetry I know.

To me he makes the pictures I called “Punchy Pictures” once;
But pound for pound it’s words I use (in photos ounce for ounce);
He is reverse of me I hunch – give me a pen to write,
And I’ll be happy in my home, like now when budget’s tight.

Lord, now I get the message in Your word back then to me –
“Don’t take the road you’ve opened up to do photography”;
Then later, “Drop it, now, it’s done; let go, like planting seed”;
Then, “You can use it as resource, some other ends to see”.

It’s always been a way to do some other part of life;
My love of it has faded partly in the midst of strife;
I love the power it holds for all, and love to pass it on,
To others as a way to see, and know what’s been and gone.

Lord, thanks for helping me to see, and know which end is up;
Thanks for the inspiration which you’ve given me – it’s tough
To have to hunker down this way, be pruned that there might be,
More apples on the branch that’s left, when branch that’s left is me.

Help me to pass on to the rest the parts I cannot use;
Help me let go of what’s not mine, comply and not refuse
To go Your way for me in this, let go of crop as seed,
That’s placed as Your word in a soil that’s good – that crop might be.

Thanks Lord for this.

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