He had lost an eye. Though, its orb still in its socket had turned a blurry blue, misty, had developed a different kind of sight. It was a pain experienced through years of looking, looking, searching. A pain no one could comprehend. Not even…
April’s stillness, ruffled by a hum of The distant drone of a circular saw The pressing winds of moving cars The drift of a child’s laughter Sound is a field of words Image entitled “Motion”.
The ground is the hardest clay Groups of limbs follow its path Huddle in the sun Knees hidden, ankles astray Plot on how to tiptoe along cushions of leaves.
Thoughts Salmon Street Springs June 2019
Click on image to enlarge. Lisbon Portugal, May 2019 (An Elan longread available here.)
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…
1. 1. Repeat offender vendors Who set up to break down 2. The song remains the same Only the avenue changes. 3. Livingroom rehearsed musicians Exposing themselves to the elements Of being ignored 4. Shaky Kombucha addicts Wait in line for…
|Elan Mudrow on Fluid|
|artrosch on Fluid|
|artrosch on Shelly|
|Arthur Rosch on Shelly|
|Elan Mudrow on Social Distancing|