Tag Archives: Forests

Forest Rash — Elan Mudrow Photography

Eagle Creek Trail, Columbia River Gorge, Oregon. November, 2015

via Forest Rash — Elan Mudrow Photography


Opal Pool

Photo by Elan Mudrow
Photo by Elan Mudrow

The roads are so young

Where old mines have been forgotten.

They stumble through the forest

Uneven, full of ruts, washouts.

Men have come with tools

Left them, returned with better.

Implements that shine silver

Rust resistant, until rains never stop.

The goal is to cut clean, to sprinkle

Shaped earth, decorating the contours

Of river, pools, and growth.

We, the ones, who yell along trails

Echoing off ancient volcanic movements

Slip five dollars

Inside an envelope–

license plate number–

Scrawled in human–

Bleached white envelopes–

Connect with the eerie reflection

Of how we carve, paint, sing, make roads–

And yes, the art of the outhouse.

The parking lot must be made bigger

The Forest Across The Road


We have looked at the embers

Found where the trail

Used to wind through

The forest , still warm.

You with that bright

Fever on your cheek

Me, dull, a copy

Of another fire you had

claimed as yours…. or

So you thought…,I know

Things are brightest

When burning…yet

There is a path flames take

When pavement bars it

From jumping across

A road to other trees.

One forest burnt, another preserved.

A relationship of nature and asphalt.


The burnt is reported to

A general public, in amounts.

Acres, ridges, houses, towns

As if the larger the area scorched

The bigger the desire.

I can remember one reporter

Asking me where the rain forest was

I motioned to everywhere

He asked me why I fought fire

I looked at you, still on the trail

Ash on your nose, smiling.


Coldness is measured in wind strength.

Inches of snow or rain.

I came across the road

To help you with the flames

Quelling the overall fear

With my calmness, while

Your inner heart searched

for a fire to overcome you

And when things were smoldering

I lost you…………., others

Found my charcoal shell,

Applied what they knew

To my appearance.

(Fire changes people)

I am now built of similes.

I am like the spring water

And cannot feel like a flame

The fire resembles you


All who look at me

Apply apocryphal images

Upon my cold, cold smile

They love the dystopian burning

Asking questions, only during

The catastrophe of transformed acres

Keeping distance from the spring

Which saves their lives.

A spring I cupped my hands in

Bringing it to our fire.


My desire is misconstrued

It was my mistake

Thinking we all could live together

Even though we already do

And always have.


I can remember the time

When we sat above

Valleys scraped of their trees

Waiting for the next blaze

Looking at a photograph taken

From space, the lights of cities

Were a ring of fire.

You were convinced the world

Was on fire, then as now.

You were kissing inflamed lips

Were they mine?

I have only the taste of spit

Rolling around a granule of ash

Between my tongue and teeth

Good enough for a memory.


I have always been a passionate

Wanderer of recovered trails

Through burnt timber

Even while I forever

Remain a water sign

Waving to you from

The forest across the road