Category Archives: Portraits

Words can paint, each letter, a bristle of a brush. The sentence becomes a stroke. Paragraphs shape objects. A portrait needs no beginning, middle, or end. When we look deep at a painting, we can’t help but wonder why the Mona Lisa smiles. If you look deep enough at portraits, close enough to pick out desire, they jump out of the frame. The frame is the story. Break out! Break out!

Forest Rash — Elan Mudrow Photography

Eagle Creek Trail, Columbia River Gorge, Oregon. November, 2015 via Forest Rash — Elan Mudrow Photography Advertisements

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Reincarnation — Elan Mudrow Photography

Pacific Crest Trail, Santiam Pass, Three Fingered Jack, Oregon. July 2017 via Reincarnation — Elan Mudrow Photography

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Perspiring Happens!

Funny, how many armpits there are Floating around. Most stay in their place. Every now and then One intrudes upon your space Making it difficult to concentrate Giving you the feeling that you need to escape Running to where the … Continue reading

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A Sublunary Plea

Dear Kuiperian We’re caught in the middle of a courtship. The sun and the Earth are tangled in passionate gravity. However, the Earth has a lover on the side, the moon. The sun doesn’t like that and is jealous. So, … Continue reading

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Fall And All

“This sun is beating down too hot, too early. Can’t you see how this new spring is fooling the trees? They like it at first, unfurling their leaves in premature green, then July hits and they think it’s September. It’s … Continue reading

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Portable Junk Drawer

Regina laughs every time she shows me The contents of her purse I call the purse a portable junk drawer But, she isn’t laughing at what I say She hears me, but doesn’t Pulling two compact discs Out of her … Continue reading

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When the wind takes its fingers and scrapes along the top of the forest, a murmur of voices erupts. This is the sound of lovers who can whisper and speak out loud at the same time. Ears have the ability … Continue reading

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The Blank Page (Portrait #9)

    Full of space, it invites your wishes to be written down upon it. Then, as soon as you jot or type something within its parameters, it looks back at you and tells you more about what your wishes … Continue reading

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The Cave (Portrait #8)

  The lamps bob in between echoes. They can only reverberate for so long, then disappear around a curve. So we tether together, in small groups of nonsense It is our belief that we will come to the end, turn … Continue reading

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