Tag: Writing

Ramona Falls’ Mist

Ramona’s whisper requites us to ourselves—our fires extinguished, our thirst sated. That voice, a pact between mountain and moisture, is a quiet call to us The stumbling pilgrims, forest wanderers, wishful sages who suffer from acute chatter. Its language—slow—near wordless, near nothing, paints upon…

Carbon

We watch the night sky, safe under its lights, reading a language of the night. Our hands fumble, circle as if in orbit, landing inside each other’s magnetic field.  We whisper to one another in a planet’s dialect, built by a syntax of suns, stanzas…

The L Joint

On the roof of this five-story building is a forest of tar, softening in the summer, seeping rain in the winter. Pigeons roost there. Not in the tar itself, but in little areas where vents pop out above the forest. There is one larger…

Mountain Lake

I sit with her Placing her in memory Giving thoughts strength, yet In her silence, she frightens me. I rely on others Camping upon her shore To soothe my worry. And although I haven’t Seen her rimmed with snow Echoing the clearest of nights,…

Urban Mimesis — Elan Mudrow Photography

via Urban Mimesis — Elan Mudrow Photography Fire had sustained, now it consumes in a slow gesture. Fingers—intact—same shape as they were before, can’t conduct. Invoking is a painted portrait, prepared each morning in the image of the moon. Flame like flowers still shoots…

The Ocean Welcomes Me Back

She knows me. Though, I haven’t seen All that she is….. All her anger and angst Frozen at times, treacherous. I know her From the safety of my footing. She can pull me, She pulls me, I am pulled Not by ebb, but by…

Incantation

Leaves in summer, full of passion, always flirt Roots in winter, compassionate, hold the dirt      

Crows

They swirl above me, swashes of crows, in a chaos of dashes. They cackle, arguing amongst themselves, bickering with the sky. These large murders are new. I haven’t seen them like this, as if they’re scolding me. For, I think they follow me. I…

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 Revealing deepened ruts A…

Binary Stars – The Kid And I

The kid comes in, snaps a few photos of a living clutter, the retail store. “We don’t have anything like this.” The standard review, spoken by the parent of the kid who shares the photo on Instagram, Facebook, or some other app. The shop…

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 My core, my atomic…

Weathered Waves Of Grain — Elan Mudrow Photography

Every ridge felt. Fort To Sea Trail. March 2018 via Weathered Waves Of Grain — Elan Mudrow Photography

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