A collage is but a collection of oddiments
arranged in a manner that brings
a certain understanding
and so I name what I see on my walk.

A black plastic comb with teeth missing not unlike the elderly
A metal bolt for connecting one to another permanently
like parents and progeny
A pink flower unwilted like what I would like all flowers to be
A clock undefeated because no one beats the clock
The back half of a black carriage like the Amish buggies I see
clopping along the backroads of my home
A cobblestone tile whose purpose is to lie flat so their buggies
can carry them home
Part of a grey brick wall that continues to block and needs to
come down
A portion of a pipe like the infrastructure of a home carrying
information, water and waste
A rainbow in a box to be opened whenever a darkness comes on
Russian words in their strange alphabet like a road sign in a rain
storm, unreadable
Corners and edges and surfaces that give contrast and texture
Squares, rectangles, triangles and partial circles that give pattern

We artists are salvager because
“salvagers disassemble the unthinkable to the unthought”