Month: April 2018

Maybe—That—Would Awaken—Them

Song lingers, body shaped by its charms. The instrument, tarnished and scratched, still distinct… Soft metal of depth, built from devotion, a loneliness all know, few embrace. Upon first touch, cold as granite, then melody’s warmth wraps…the air. Strange kind of ether, a wonder…

Imprints

Trails… little lines through forests… embrace connections, gather imprints, from hiking boot, the brave flip flop, the weekend tennis shoe. I’m not alone, but, there’s a separateness I can’t deny.  My feet…clunky…bony things…bad negotiators of ground, stumbles into sunlight, with trees as easel, hangs…

To Wander

This south wind Brings a warmth Tickling the side Of rhododendrons Waiting for the fluster Of petals who fall The quickest, earliest Sticking to shoes Tracked into the kitchen   “I meant to tell [you] How I longed For just this single time”  …

Out The Other — Elan Mudrow Photography

  Waste: To consume, spend, or employ uselessly. Without adequate return. Use to no avail or profit; squander. To fail or neglect to use. To destroy or consume gradually; wear away.   Drinking fountain drain, Mt. Tabor, Portland Oregon, March 2018   (Alien Bowling Ball?)…

Last Reaches — Elan Mudrow Photography

Tentacles like arms reach for a last touch of sky. Forest fires burn differently depending on the environment. Some fires lick the bark off of trees but leave them alive to grow new skin. Others, like this one, scorch, leaving a graveyard full of…

Opus

I mimic the forest, where ferns gentle as flowers, leaves like feral pastels, shape the wind’s hymn, creating a counterpoint of chaos and calm.   There, the birds have memorized melodies older than the shape of my skeleton. Even young trees, the adolescent tones,…

A Bad Case Of Hubbub

Lucy runs into the house with fright on her face. “Mom!? Jimmy told me I’ve got bad case of the glimmer! Feel my forehead. Jimmy said I needed to get a shot!” Mom plays along, feels Lucy’s forehead. “Yes, I am afraid so. Looks…

By The Book

I came from chaotic matter, unformed, unnamed, a forest of thought, discord, a region of unlikeness. But now I am formed, symmetrical, a language, a song, a poem, matter between skin, meanings I would like to think of as endowed with light. I did…

Climate

Sometimes I wish this rain wasn’t as cold as it is. I hear its voice when hitting my roof, a choir, confused, but a steady, controlled, stream of notes. My skin fragile, one cold drop could sink into my bones, giving me a chill,…

A Symmetrical — Elan Mudrow Photography

Trail topography can be a strange combination of nature and newness. This photo is a rotated pic of a footbridge crossing the Skipanon River. The bridge’s laser-precise wooden planks and glossy machinist bolts contrasts what lies outside the frame. Lush, wild, rain forest. Only…

Cascade Soul

My Spirit is a path built in the Cascades. Tectonic plates. It adheres to a dream where I’ve floated above the trail, without pain, not worrying about the forest. The seasons stilled and the river is silent. In this sleep, my imagined body feels…

The Artist

Upon mountain trails, the hiker might see signs of an old sheep herder, the craftsperson, who had built a hut of fallen trees in a meadow. It now stands abandoned upon bare fields of wild green. Spring blooms still hold their heads, shyly, with…

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