Presenting a collection of St. Louis bricks, sidewalk markers, and the Fleur-de-lis as architectural detail on and in city buildings, brick collecting, urban exploration, and my life by Christian Herman. Reporting from Tower Grove South in St. Louis, MO
10/24/22
10/23/22
The Crow
The crow slams into the window, drops to the sill, glances at me with embarrassment, then hops onto the mantle.
I've had a bad day, loaded with physical pain but otherwise void of content.
Tears crash to my chest. The crow is watching my reflection in the mantle mirror. I can't stop crying. I am thinking of being in the ER today and the woman in the room next to me who wouldn't stop sobbing. I listened to understand her pain and realized she was crying about a loss.
At first I was annoyed since I was trying to read. When I became aware of my selfishness, I was very ashamed.
Now I am crying with frustration about all I won't be able to fix.
Your eyelashes are sparkling, the crow says, There's glass dancing in your eyes.
I don't have any eyelashes he says, looking in the mirror.
He sighs.
He does a soft shoe in the dust, a small sweeping of tiny steps, a hissing really, then he stops and takes a bow.
The bow is more of a harsh jerk, graceless. The crow blinks at me, but just the once. He wobbles like he's drunk.
I laugh.
Clean up the glass, he says, wake up and smell the coffee!
I've had a bad day, loaded with physical pain but otherwise void of content.
Tears crash to my chest. The crow is watching my reflection in the mantle mirror. I can't stop crying. I am thinking of being in the ER today and the woman in the room next to me who wouldn't stop sobbing. I listened to understand her pain and realized she was crying about a loss.
At first I was annoyed since I was trying to read. When I became aware of my selfishness, I was very ashamed.
Now I am crying with frustration about all I won't be able to fix.
Your eyelashes are sparkling, the crow says, There's glass dancing in your eyes.
I don't have any eyelashes he says, looking in the mirror.
He sighs.
He does a soft shoe in the dust, a small sweeping of tiny steps, a hissing really, then he stops and takes a bow.
The bow is more of a harsh jerk, graceless. The crow blinks at me, but just the once. He wobbles like he's drunk.
I laugh.
Clean up the glass, he says, wake up and smell the coffee!
10/22/22
The Crow
The crow, both pilot and craft, drops to my desk with a thump and flicks a rain drop off a wing. I can tell by the way he moves that he's annoyed.
I glance at him without turning my head. I know how much he enjoys watching my eyes move together while his are independent. He thinks it's a trick.
He giggles with glee.
Do hawks bother you, I ask.
Nah, we're cool, we have an understanding, he says. Sounding doubtful.
I don't understand the word Luncheon, he adds.
Did someone ask you to luncheon, I wonder.
Of course not, he says, I'm a crow but I can read.
He does his nervous three step hop, comes closer and stares at me with solid black eyes. I love his eyes. They are shiny like wet but matte.
Matte, I say to him.
Luncheonette, he says. I saw one a long time ago.
I'm no longer frightened by his raspy voice.
He is beautiful.
He is the end of beauty.
I glance at him without turning my head. I know how much he enjoys watching my eyes move together while his are independent. He thinks it's a trick.
He giggles with glee.
Do hawks bother you, I ask.
Nah, we're cool, we have an understanding, he says. Sounding doubtful.
I don't understand the word Luncheon, he adds.
Did someone ask you to luncheon, I wonder.
Of course not, he says, I'm a crow but I can read.
He does his nervous three step hop, comes closer and stares at me with solid black eyes. I love his eyes. They are shiny like wet but matte.
Matte, I say to him.
Luncheonette, he says. I saw one a long time ago.
I'm no longer frightened by his raspy voice.
He is beautiful.
He is the end of beauty.
10/18/22
The Cotton Belt Railway Depot. St. Louis
Photo by STL street photographer extraordinaire, Matthew Smith. AKA Brick Dawg. Posted with premission.
10/15/22
Wow, I thought when I saw this photo, Cheap Sleeps!
Shizuoka Press and Broadcasting. 1967.
Kenzo Tange. Photo by Foto_momo.
A close variation on this building appeared in my dreams years ago. It was called 'hotel' Cheap Sleeps.
The structures on its sides were sleeping chambers in my post nuclear landscape dream.
It was a recurring nightmare.
I owned the business with Johnny Depp who I pretty much hated and thought of as a slacker because he only worked the office while I had to maintain the building.
In my dream it was a corten steel structure shaped like a cigar.
And sometimes a cigar is just a cigar!
A close variation on this building appeared in my dreams years ago. It was called 'hotel' Cheap Sleeps.
The structures on its sides were sleeping chambers in my post nuclear landscape dream.
It was a recurring nightmare.
I owned the business with Johnny Depp who I pretty much hated and thought of as a slacker because he only worked the office while I had to maintain the building.
In my dream it was a corten steel structure shaped like a cigar.
And sometimes a cigar is just a cigar!
10/10/22
One week. October 2014.
One week of being in her new home. 37 pounds and bald. Her fur was beginning to grow. Due to stress, malnutrition, and a tape worm I didn't as yet know she had.
She was stretched on the floor in trust.
She was stretched on the floor in trust.
The Crow
One of the windows is cracked causing fractured sunlight to bounce into the room. The crow is coldly sunning his toes.
In this light I expect a flash of indigo from him but he is truly a matte black.
How old are you, I asked him.
He shudders and won't look at me.
I remember the plague, he said.
I'm so sorry for your kind, I tell him, I missed all of you very much. I didn't know if you would come back. I watched for you. It was 25 years ago. I used to see crows as big as footballs.
He shrugged and said, I don't know years just cold. Heat.
I admire that you can shrug, I said.
I wish it on you, he said, this understanding. You watch time, you want to hold it. You refer to it and don't know how to move away from it.
I winced with a raw confusion but this was typical of me.
The crow looked at me and rolled an eye. He could do that, roll one eye. It made me giggle.
In light, he said rattling both wings, I still don't know you.
In this light I expect a flash of indigo from him but he is truly a matte black.
How old are you, I asked him.
He shudders and won't look at me.
I remember the plague, he said.
I'm so sorry for your kind, I tell him, I missed all of you very much. I didn't know if you would come back. I watched for you. It was 25 years ago. I used to see crows as big as footballs.
He shrugged and said, I don't know years just cold. Heat.
I admire that you can shrug, I said.
I wish it on you, he said, this understanding. You watch time, you want to hold it. You refer to it and don't know how to move away from it.
I winced with a raw confusion but this was typical of me.
The crow looked at me and rolled an eye. He could do that, roll one eye. It made me giggle.
In light, he said rattling both wings, I still don't know you.
9/23/22
Bellie has crossed the Rainbow Bridge
The most beautiful little Golden Girl has left the world.
We had a ceremony in her yard where she spent the first cool day on her cot gazing at Mah'mm and the clouds.
I could see the sky in her eyes.
We had a ceremony in her yard where she spent the first cool day on her cot gazing at Mah'mm and the clouds.
I could see the sky in her eyes.
9/19/22
9/18/22
9/15/22
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