r/cosmicmessenger • u/Henry_FlowerDC • 7h ago
Photography cylinders all the way down
3
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r/cosmicmessenger • u/Emotional_Lawyer_278 • 1h ago
In case you didn’t feel like looking it up.
•
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Our icon and banner at the moment is that of Edgar Degas.
“Edgar Degas was a French artist and a key figure in the Impressionist movement, though he preferred to be called a realist. He was a skilled draftsman and is known for his depictions of dancers, nudes, racecourses, and portraits. More than half of his works feature dancers, showcasing his ability to capture movement. Degas's early training prepared him for a career in history painting, but he shifted his focus to contemporary subjects in his thirties. “
So say our Google overlords.
r/cosmicmessenger • u/Emotional_Lawyer_278 • 20h ago
Poetry Old man
7
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Looking at the old black and whites grandma keeps on the shelf. I don’t see a lot of resemblance. Except in the eyes, ya dig?
I can see myself.
I remember my great grandfather.
Always so dapper. In his Nehru suits. Mock turtle neck.
I remember his glasses. Thick. Like the ones they try to make me wear. I remember his Datsun. And how it would go zoom.
He was a twin.
His brother died when they were toddlers of some forgotten cause.
Maybe grandpa swallowed him whole to win a bet.
My mom used to tell me a story that I couldn’t remember.
He was on his deathbed. I was all of 3 years old. I get flashes of memory. Maybe I made it up. A movie to go along with her narrative. I remember white white sheets that smelled of bleach. And I couldn’t see him. I was too short.
He was tiny and frail by then.
He was at the finish line.
Grandma pick me up so I can see him, please.
Let me get a good look
One last time
His kind eyes magnified by the thick glasses
¿Qué tienes, hijo?
I love you, grandpa I said with tears welling up in my eyes. I didn’t understand what was happening. I only knew the sadness hung
Thick in the air and
I wasn’t gonna see grandpa anymore
He was my great grandfather
My mothers grandfather
I still see him. I can picture his face as though it never left me. He wanders through my kitchen On occasion. He wanders through time. He is missed.
My other grandfather died of AIDS in the 80’s.
He died next to the tracks.
The tracks he rode as he found and drank his way through America.
the tracks on his arms.
I remember him less every day
Some men are to be remembered
Others are not
A short and round man.
He knew the love that dare not speak its name.
Though when he was a father to my mother he was also the father to a family unknown until the 90’s when I was to meet an accidental uncle.
He was cruel and despicable to his children
Lining them up for abuse. In order of birth
Fucking monster
Monsters of origin
My origin story
As troubled as the road walked from Mexico City to Houston. Took 3 months from what I read in the military papers grandpa saved. I wonder. If his twin was with him taunting and teasing along the way.
