DELETE 8

Check out my new article on Examiner.com: 10 great NYC photo-books

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DELETE 9

Check out my new article on Examiner.com: Open Society Institute Documentary Photography Project announces winners

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(Cinnamon Sticks and Frosted Lips)

Digital dictation isn't fair enough as I fumble for pencil and paper, to record fledgling breaths of anticipation and agony. Not of this time, staggering souls slide into syncopation, slipping out through tunnels and rabbit-holes. Frolic young ones, flee like the rabbit on the first frostbitten hemlock, nuzzle and kneel close to the ground for her hidden messages.

Through the forest, rear window, birds eye view. Swallowing the sleepy buildings like sugarcane-kissed strawberries. States slip by beneath in a linear involuntary manner. Power lines prophesize permanence and destination. Day blends to night tastes like cinnamon sticks and frosted lips.

(Bird of the Bayou)

oh, sweet serenity, how the deafness falls upon mine ears and creates a dumbfounding darkness. it has been too long since the sound of your chorus has filled these spaces. I pause, poised and prepared to traverse the meadowlands and race V-8, floorboard, forward into the badlands- those streets with no name, rugged and abating. skulking shadows of the firefly lights traipse behind in whispers and giggle while I find myself steadfast in your heart.

Until that gravity plants me imperviously cheek to cheek, I sigh and sing like the bird of the bayou. Idle hands, have I not? They are reaching for any task that can dissuade them from becoming the playthings of a devil of distance. Ice descends upon them, and I am reticent to implore them cessation. Lost in the inter-webs of daydream dialogues, the sun shall soon usurp the clouds, and open before me my pilgrimage.

(Witness)

     

   

      

straightaway to city center

sun slunk low behind

solemn skeletons of summer

magic drawbridge

crossing a creek kissed in ice

linked like lovers strolling in

stolen time

empty walls speak softly to

those who will listen

figurines gather in gait

escaping paralyzing pedestals

Michelangelo leaks from lips

like ladies sipping tea.

come.

single file by my side and witness

fumbling for fingers amidst

woolen fortresses

(chemical brothers)

forge into the frost of

 winter's rough lips and 

roam dark streets in search of 

lady luck, arm in arm, four footfalls 

echo between silent sentinels 

soaring the dark sky. 

scaffoldings and screen-ins make 

poor fit for the wind that 

carries with it a desirable desolation in 

the land of mechanized monotony. 

slip into a place where ghosts and 

legends beat their boots and 

chemical brothers dial up poison from 

rainbow wells. 

under the floorboards hides a chatty 

Dickens-like character with a

generous grin 

documenting the days attire and 

dreaming handsomely of 

strawberry fields and sun-soaked days 

hand in hand with a whisper. 

(Random, though it seems...)

Piercing pivotal relay race,
simple equation of space and time
chaos plays free.
Seemingly random becomes the
bare minimum and the
unified roam colliding and
sanctifying the spatial tendencies.
Pretty sees happy and like magnets the multitudinous masses
deplete directly magnifying orbital alliance.
Millisecond memory,
flow seems frozen and the
waves part at the seams,
embarking to send out sensory.
Washed up to shore, escaping the
reign of the hydrogenated,
Stand upright and follow in form
to leap the spans and announce.

(Light Lingers Last)

Light lingers last,
lasciviously licking it's lips,
smacking throws, piercing eye,
finicky frothing forward, trailing
behind desertion. Lusterless,
the laws and traditions mean
nothing to the reverted.
Free wind for trial and error.


Reality elevates it's timing,
rising giants strident in a jungle of machines.
Hand held rush through hallowed halls reading
palms of the Masters.
Click-clack-tiles sing of
higher methods and legends, escape hatch
adventure into wonderland.


Expressionism exhales sentiment.
Snap-trap moments to
plasticize potential and
rectify righteous reasoning.
Flicker under ticker tape parades,
fortress in magical forest,
fast for words, and
breathless in mind.


Wind rush race to the finish,
flying fear first into
headlong heights.
Inclination to entrust Icarus,
to seek sky,
to blink and to fly.

(Runway Run Away)

runway runaway,
forethought forced
whilst the weary-eyed waste their breath
beating down the hounds.
300ppi, trim and tuck,
cork tree soliloquy
hiding the sand
slipping beneath the surface,
shoreline shifting sending you
back to the ocean floor.

Fair // Tell

Fairytale comes crashing
in on top
leaving me facedown on the pavement wondering which way is up.
Intervals of intermediate intimacy occupies the hollows and grabs hold hoping
it's all a dream.


Today is a dark day
marked by sighs, solemn streams flow forcing
open the dam.
Inclusive raps at the door sheltered from the storm and drags in the chill behind him.


Windows slam shut
suffocating the empty hallways.