Elan Mudrow
Smidgens
Category: 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!
Scattered Town
One can hear the electrical wires in the rain near the scattered towns. Your voice is still under those lines, in one town or another, poking around old man bars. You wanted to see where the forest ditched the highway, where the grid no…
The Lover and the Fool
Running through the mud, laughing like a feral forest child with no concept of language. My body, the only means of communication, flying down Macleay creek trail, passing the Witch’s House. I swear I float above the trail. Then on Wildwood, even the sounds…
Daylight Thieves
Sauvie Island, February 2019 (click on image to enlarge) More images found here and here.
Almost Spring On The Clackamas
The forest is last to relinquish winter. Snow still sticking between its toes, it has thousands of shadows and shades, ways to hide from sunlight. On these days of last melt, snow packs down hard on the unexposed trail, creating a thin slice of…
Skies
Ren gauged the sky by clouds, how dense they were against August west hills. When they sat high above the hills, like loose bones on taunt skin, he threw an old mustard-colored blanket upon the backyard lawn. The lawn was a sea storm of…
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