Words | Pictures
Writing paired with photography. Often beginning with a walk, sometimes ending somewhere else entirely.
Rising Through the Fallen
The late autumn air
has cooled in quadrants
of forties and thirties.
The prairie trail is
hollowed, a seawall of
brown stalks taller than
the average man.
Companions
This is the divide in the trail
where we go our separate ways
you into memory fully sprinting
coat shining chasing who knows what
into who knows where
and me still walking
into tomorrow where the leaves fall
and cover with snow
More Dog Walking
My dog rolls in dung on the trail. I shouldn't mince words, I think it was dog shit.
Then he ate it.
Long Island Johnny at the Tiki Bar, 2020
Cold December Florida dusk. Hardly anyone there.
Hardly anyone is me and you and a few others
together alone in the pandemic air.
Creativity After 50
In my head there should be a factory
Unfortunately it may be closing
It’s more like a dying pet store
animals abandoned
shelled seeds strewn on cage floors
birds flutter around the bars
searching to fly free
peck for seeds but live on
stray chaff
