Today is my ‘last’ day as an automobile photographer. I will probably miss those circle scenes, the backing with the colliding involved, but in these times, three years is long enough. I’d like to thank Ray Carpenter Ray Carpenter who taught me everything I know about AUTO photography, and especially shooting in MANUAL AUTOS. Peace outback in the Chevy field somewhere.
July 30.2022
Three years ago my good friend Ray Carpenter saw me coming out of Baya to get into my vehicle from being fired. He didn’t know they had let me go but offered me a job taking photos of vehicles for the web pages of the dealers. Three years later we find out the photo department locally of Ray, his son and I are being outsourced by a company starting Monday. Well, though I didn’t need to, for the two weeks I kept the log Ray, the boss, asked us to. In other words, I stayed true even though I didn’t have to.
Only thing I can say is, though I trust I was a good employee, it’s very important who you hire. They can ultimately cause you to be…outsourced. Peace out.
This was 2022. They didn’t get rid of me but made me a driver of cars. Ray and son they let go. I stayed on til my stroke last year.
John Clare Stokes
When Sabeans maul
When fire falls from heaven
When Chaldeans storm
When great winds come
When one escapes to tell
When grief is poured
When in dust you dwell
Blessed will be the name
Of the Lord still.
John Clare Stokes
We who once dwelt in Iston
Think of it always so
We never see it in its
Completeness
As those who remain see it
When we approach from
Far Onson and the tower
Is nearing
As we top the hill
We expect to still see
Those familiar scenes
Stretching down Noble
Each time passing
Beneath the Iston
Something is missing
Many places replaced
But mostly empty space
Leaving us to fill in the
Blanks
We do not linger
For we who once dwelt
It's painful
To those who came after us
History is unknown
In need of tearing down
Moving on
And we do
Sadly amid the
Exultant
John Clare Stokes
The iron butterfly soared
Upon the wind
Down from the red mountain
The chimes of heaven
Tinkling
Don’t you know I’ll
Always be true?
Only in a seventeen minute span
Plummet to earth
Cast drunken, a windless tangle
From an
In-a-gadda-da-In the garden of Eden
John Clare Stokes
The iron butterfly soared
Upon the wind
Down from the red mountain
The chimes of heaven
Tinkling
Don’t you know I’ll
Always be true?
Only in a seventeen minute span
Plummet to earth
Cast drunken, a windless tangle
From an
In-a-gadda-da-vida.
In the year 68 the Iron Butterfly came out with 17 minute song and we drove over to the Subterranean Circus head shop on 10 South Main in Dreamsville, Hogtown or Gainesville to get the vinyl. We got home and put it on the family console, taking off the Perry Como, laid on the carpet and turned the volume way up, for our parents were not home yet. We were no longer rednecks from Williston but hard rockers. Or so we imagined.
John Clare Stokes
And in the first evening
Came the six as one
Each to his own direction
By the morning of the second
To one vision they turned
A bouquet for the new day
For by the evening of the third
The glory of the gathered
But a memory of the first bloom
The Ceylon Swamp Lily
Crinum Zeylanicum
Mostly it’s just the rake
and me
Out in the back alone
doing a semblance
of a waltz among
the pine needles
she is so lithe in my touch
Anticipating my every move
Oh she’s been all
I’ve ever imagined
It’s a merciful thing
to sweep with a rake
A fellow could die
from all the leaves
he was dancing with
Vision can be such a difficult thing
One can be impatiently pointing
Exasperated you cannot see
The obvious hidden in the trees
Have compassion upon we the blind
To our dimness be kind
God didn’t give me eagle vision
But big ears
For listening
In vain I tried to convince her
As the Prince emerged
From the magic stone
The end of your woes has come
You can leave that Chiefland apartment
Why have a castle upon a Utah mountain
if you want
Eat at the Gathering Buffet everyday
But lo
It was all for naught
She couldn’t get beyond
Kissing the frog.
John Clare Stokes
It’s a kind of world
One could grow fond of
Wolves and coyotes joining
Stars in their brightest twinkle
Prayers it seems come easier
Distractions yet to awaken
