I haven't put much on this page as my father passed away. He was the most interesting and unusual of men. He took us to every museum and monastery in this country, telling us how beautiful and rare each item was, and when I began collecting oddities he just smiled at my peculiar things. ( I saw that hidden wounder and beauty you saw, I listened... it is your fault I love these things dad) He told us stories of his travels around the world. He grew up on a farm in Rex Oregon joined the Merchant Marines when he was 14. He sailed the oceans during WW2 and collected dreams which he shared with the world. He was in China, Manilla and New Guinea, trained at Santa Catalina ca Avalon 1944. I am sorry I did not take the time to see him as I do now. What an amazing man.

 Dad at 14

Dad is in the dark hat

 

Dad in the middle

Thank you for showing me there is haunting magic in everything

My Fathers Hands

To my father Richard Keith Compton

 I can see now,

 The gentle flesh of my father’s hands,

 Like coiled, matted snakes amassed within their nest,

Grayed, bundled, convolutions

Graceful like a contorted willow

Shaped in exotic form,

Knotted with time

As a nurtured bonsai,

Reaching away

From the sight of others,

Hidden in dark pockets

Once forceful.

Now offered in gesture, as eyes turn

In horror, reluctantly reach from its touch,

Still holding the translucent leaves of fall

With such strength