Tag: Blog

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…

Above Multnomah Falls

This warm winter makes the creek scream like spring. I dip my hand in, as far in as my long sleeves let me Smooth stones, slick, cold life, years in my hands. My fragile blood beats, knows the water by heart.   It’s good…

Ingrained

More images can be found here.

Christmas Presence

Late, Christmas night, wandering past your home. I see your face in the window, warm, buried in your phone, your lamps glow There’s a fuzziness about your image   The trees, their winter arms angling for musty sky, starless. The atmosphere’s full of their…

Mnemosyne

Her arm, a light porcelain, marbled with a series of veins and arteries. Sometimes she thinks she’s cold, a stone. She takes a sacred bath, a bit too warm for many, candles burning messages into her sweat, to see through the cold, if she…

Dab Of Warmth

There are mild spots between winter’s beating of grayness Where breaths, in ease, are breathed…gloves are placed in pockets or lost on streets of snow Mixed in that scattered brown batter of orphaned leaves. The sun appears as a stranger, speaking a forgotten tongue, yet familiar tone Trying to…

Luminous Language

  More images found here.

First Light In The Winter Garden

  Click on image to enlarge. More images here.

Openness

 Shining from its source, from out a promising window.  Birds fly into the glass.           (Trust can’t be a construct, it’s wild.)  

Thinglewart

So true, so true Thinglewart is blue And who knew, who knew, what to do? For Thinglewart is a preposterous pest Indeed he wears a stiff, starched vest No stretchy, stretch for Thinglewart ever Just keeps on shoveling shit ‘til never ‘Til the sky…

Circuit Tree

  Daily images uploaded on Instagram. Follow @undeciduous on Instagram.    

Flection

With each leaf a face of dryer future falls reflects the prolonged fixing and fiddling of limb and ground. I step cautiously, hearing you beneath my shoe. Upon your spine, I search for strength. Your breath crumples with a sound of what was and is…

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