Tag: River

Fishing

  The fireman walks down to the dock, where the fisherman adjusts his line every few minutes. I see the fireman asking the fisherman questions. The fireman seems concerned, looking towards me as he talks. You see, I’ve been taking photos of the firehouse,…

Warrior Rock Light

  The river is high for winter, but it’s still the water I know, its muddy banks, dirty shore, lucid waves. Swollen, I can’t follow it to the lighthouse. I cut through brambles, to the trail, stepping on spongy flora forming a false carpet,…

No Dreaming Required

She said we never reach the river we dream of. Never. Yet, she’s there, roasting marshmallows, gutting fish, keeping dry inside a tent. Perhaps, she’s forgotten how a wild river feels along the soles of her feet. Its cold water, during the hottest days,…

The Small River

Although I haven’t seen the small river yet… the one tucked back in the Coast Range, I know the trees will come up to its edge, some will lean too close, arching over the water. Ferns will dot its shores, trailing back to darker…

Unstable

Klickitat River, December 2018 More images can be found here.    

The River (Portrait #1)

  The river– Cold, of a certain depth, certain speed, enough to conceal . Annie had freckles that hid frowns, dusty eyes—unmanageable red hair like wild wires sitting upon a strange round head. Pulling Jessie’s wet wrists, towards the water, hands slipped away. Annie…

The Ripples Are Confused

  The river runs grey today Echoing the action of clouds They move, as it runs We are underneath, on the banks   The river is smiling at us This leads to a flood of sky Movement, on the way The flow can’t be…

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