Tag Archives: Photography

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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Aftereffects Of Fire

Here, where fire once raged Our voice is diminished As if our speech leaves through Lungs weighing only of paper And this trail we have carved To stand next to old giants With charred arms Comes with symbols and words … Continue reading

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Vulnerability

Only through our vulnerabilities   Can we speak of ourselves Where no genders build language Where no categories structure Your reaction to my voice….. My reaction to your voice. Either of us can be the words Slicing into the coolness … Continue reading

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Internet

I’m the child who strips sticks off maples and oaks To slap curbs like drums Make them mallets To tap out the melodious Microtones of storm drain covers   I preform this inside A concrete planned pattern Where Chestnut street … Continue reading

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Salmon River Spring

Cool kiss from the forest Stirs an inner revival Charged by its music Fresh from the source That drums upon rocks. As if my very bones Were strewn underneath The stream of Orpheus Whose rhythms sink Past thirst, deep within … Continue reading

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Sacred Clothing

  Suspenders are oblivious To their importance They hold shit up Panties can only be pink once Bras are too self-involved Gloves never lay a hand on anything Belts are for the buttless Tightening up when uncomfortable Loosening up after … Continue reading

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The Rope (Portrait #3)

  The snow is blamed, it always is, as mad as you get at it, as mad as it makes me. But, I know, like you do, now, it’s always the rope. The others don’t realize the rope’s properties, as … Continue reading

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Casuals Don’t Fool Anyone

  Slippers are for cowards Slip-ons are for Christmas Morning hung-over dads Sandals are for white people forced into dreadlocks on their way to burn a man Dancing out of their money eating spiced tempeh fries disguised as Jesus peyote … Continue reading

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We Awaken In The New Dry Day

You are like the missing rain Only the mist has been caught in the trees A thousand kisses fall to the ground Mud has formed at my feet I am on my hands Tracing your lips   Wooden steps support … Continue reading

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Beyond Words

She vibrates on trails high above Tunnel Falls, where lakes colder than winter wait. No one sees her, only a wake follows. Her apparition is enough to remind her of words left behind—words which cut into her skin—permanent wounds. Not … Continue reading

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