mountaintop field
feeding clouds
Kind of the same idea as this haiku, but not as cerebral and with a possible emotional connection to the opening word. The photo was taken at the next old farm to the southwest, two+ miles down the ridge.
fallow
Category: artifacts
now that it’s just my winter
mud dauber nests
Just spotted this at the back of the garage when I put away the car this afternoon. How had I missed it before? Such gorgeous architecture. I’m not entirely sure what I had in mind with the words but they felt right, and sometimes that’s enough.
hanging on
to a single wing
old spiderweb
And now for something completely different. Someone shared this image on Twitter last night, and for some reason I was transfixed and saved it to my hard drive. It turns out to be the central panel from a 15th-century triptych by Hans Memling, Christ with Singing and Music-Making Angels. (Click through and check out all the cool Renaissance instruments!)
Sure, this is a photoblog, but my recent dabbling in haiga makes me want to branch out a little. This morning I opened the image on my laptop in GIMP (which has lots of fonts but a pretty awkward text-editing tool), tilted my head back, and gazed up at the corner of the ceiling. Good thing I’m not big on housecleaning.
lost
idiolect are you
my mutter
The sun is different here—
distant, keeps odd hours. A foreigner, regarded with a mixture of bemused tolerance and mistrust.
old jawbones
lying at right angles
my camera is a phone
In a dream, I ask advice on raising children
and am told to bury them in the yard so they’ll ripen.
I place myself
on the Underground map uneasily, wondering how such ideal points and lines can add up to anything resembling the surface.
Bronze Age
Migratory as an eel, unstable as molten metal wavering between stone and water, I dreamed myself adrift in a forest of the dead, one more leaf returned to the forge of life, green blade that does not crumble, however fallen, in any autumn that we know.
bronze Gandhi
patina sending tendrils
toward the earth
