Like water for ice

This entry is part 12 of 16 in the series Postcards from a Conquistador


Pome: 'The women there gave their love away as if it were water. The next morning we made them take baptism. Every time the priest mentioned love, he raised his eyes toward the only heaven he knew.'

(See the photo minus the words here.)

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Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).


  1. Just on its own, that’s one heck of a stunning photo.
    Add the words and it’s quite a composition.
    I particularly like the white words floating
    among the spaces between the icy canes.


  2. Wow Dave – what a find. Finding your blog, alone, has made hosting IATB 91 all worth it. How have I missed this?


  3. Ah yes. Superb. Absolutely superb. Particularly the confusion of sex with love. There ought to be a term for that like “pathetic fallacy”. Maybe “pathetic phallusy”.


  4. Thanks, all. “Pathetic phallusy” is great – deserves to catch on for sure!

    This postcard turned out OK, I guess, but when I was waking up this morning it occurred to me that I might’ve moved it up to the present day, and instead of the Church picked on water privitization schemes – a very conquistadorial thing, I think. Well, maybe I can tackle that some other time.


  5. reminds me of old favorite book “like water for chocolate”.


  6. Stunning photo and poem, Dave. Michelle is raving about this series. I’ll be looking at the others too.


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