We brought a little camera in our gear,
but fifteen pictures cannot capture all
the colors or the contours that appear
before our greedy eyes, for look how small
the window is that’s meant to find a view,
and see how it confines within its frame
a mere selected sliver of the true,
an image barely worthy of the name.

My camera obscura is a tool
that limits and diminishes my sight,
obscures the memory, and I’m a fool
who recollects a photo’s captured light
instead of what I saw. The film’s a trace
suggestive that dissects the desert’s face.