On May 23, 1992, Beth and I were married in Greenville, Illinois. Since we were residents of Orlando, Florida, at the time, on May 16, we had a pre-wedding party for our Central Florida friends. Here’s some of the photographic evidence from a very fun get-together that we will never forget. Thanks for the great memories friends!

I wrote this poem just a little over twenty years ago… a day before my 26th birthday, and a few weeks before Beth and I were married in Greenville, Illinois. It’s quite amusing to me that I mentioned feeling like I was 46, as that’s the age I am now; for the record, it feels very different than I guessed it would at that time. The good news is, it’s even better than I expected.

Twenty-Five and Going

by Roger Darnell

I’ve put off the great Chinese thinkers
for another year, at least.
Taken up being a fiancee.

Read a lot of Bukowski. That was a good idea.
Feel like I’m forty-six, only
twenty-six.

My poetry stacked up… sort of thin.
The 25-year-old poet was buried.

But so was the 24-year-old. So what?
The word years is losing significance.
On an abacus it would mean beads.
On my awakeness, it means

Memories, feelings, fears, understandings.
Understandingness.

My mom gave me some of her work. A lot of it.
I think that means something. Praised me –
in a letter, not the poetry — as being a good man.

Now that’s something. I don’t care who you are –
that’s something. I’m getting married. Think it’ll be
something, also. Proud. I’d admit it.

And going! Going now, as the pen pauses…
perilously….

Thinking back on my life 20 years ago, I have to say that today seems so much simpler. I wrote about that key personal era in “Arc of the Poet Part 6,” and although I think it makes for interesting reading, recalling those days is rather bracing for me. I had so much to prove to myself and the short list of others whose opinions really mattered to me, and although I was confident in my strengths and abilities, I was unsure about so much more. While I had come very far with the gifts provided by my family, as well as those I was earning for myself, the new chapters seemed to hold promises I was almost afraid to hope for. Within weeks of writing the poem below, I began my new role as the husband of Beth Darnell. That dream-come-true continues today, thanks in part to the instincts revealed below which made me realize that the opportunities I was facing were precious and must be handled with care.

Careful

by Roger Darnell

There could be a
limerick or something
back there,
something quick and terse –
elucidating, uproarious,
stabbing.

But I just want to say
everything’s going so fast;

you know, not in every way…
but in most,
it really is.

Can’t say much more
than that.
Although I can fit in

something
about
love
and about
thanks, and graciousness,
and pay attentions.
And carefuls.

Tommy and I are very proud to announce that our book “Ewasko: Days and Lights” — which was nominated for Blurb’s “People’s Choice Award” — is now available as an instant ebook download for Apple iBooks (iPad/iPhone).

We’re also very psyched to announce the release of the next wave of high-quality art prints and photographic products of images featured in “Ewasko: Days and Lights.” By visiting RKDfind Ewasko Gallery you can now order prints with mounting and framing services from Mpix Lab and Photobox, and specialty gifts and photo products from vendors such as IYP Photo Products and fotoflot.

If you have any questions on orders, please call me at 1.828.264.8898. Thank you very much for your interest in this project — we hope you enjoy these images and we look forward to hearing from you any time.

COMPUTER 12,000
by
Roger Darnell

Copyright © Roger Darnell 2012
All Rights Reserved

Complete blackness veils Armstrong, sitting in age-old spot in space once known both as “living room” and “office” by owner of long-ago disconnected home, now set in increasingly bad neighborhood in suburban East Los Angeles. Dull sound like chirping crickets is all Armstrong knows besides black vagueness, odd lights and vacant memories.

Crickets raise subtle din in reality, just as depth of night slides past nanosecond by nanosecond.

Moon invades home through windows in living room and front door, and in kitchen’s door and above its sink. Foreboding shadows of night filter home’s front rooms and dusty, aging contents as though radiating darkness in through thick trees outside. Faint light-wisps trace former owner’s abandoned living room furnishings: couch, chairs, tables, light fixtures, full bookshelf adorned with old-fashioned slide and movie projection equipment, each one aiming out its concave lens in starved surveillance.

Oscillation fans also from by-gone era further decorate far wall.

Set in corner against near wall is fifty-inch flat panel television monitor with 1930s-style radio receiver set on top.

Near there, centered on main wall, is desk… upon which rests 27-inch LCD computer display, keyboard and trackball – all wireless – and below which stands slim computer tower, plugged into lifeless power strip and other small, important-looking devices. Inside CPU is Armstrong… or at least, was. Whether or not he will ever again be remains unknown. Read more