Feverfew and Darkness
Find what you love, and let it kill you… If I try to cook in a bad mood, you’ll taste it in my meal. Trying to create art when my mind is full of darkness sounds… Continue reading
Category Archive: photography
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To Build a Fire
I’ve blathered on enough about elemental symbolism in past weeks, so this post is just a few studies of fire. A good roaring campfire is surely one of the joys of camping. When… Continue reading
Into the Void
And just as the sun must keep on seeking the west, everything you love, will always be leaving… Notes from the last day of March, 2014, somewhere along Highway 14, Washington: It should… Continue reading
Cantrip and Loveletter
I’ve started putting together images for the new body of work, Cantrips and Loveletter, trying to mix raw images into something meaningful. At the moment it does feel a bit like hitting one’s head against the… Continue reading
Goodbye Blue Sky
Just a few images of clouds taken while dodging raindrops and one of the finished poems from the new body of work which now has the working title of Cantrip and Loveletter… August… Continue reading
Sacrificial Bonfire
“Let’s see the very thing and nothing else. Let’s see it with the hottest fire of sight. Burn everything not part of it to ash. Trace the gold sun about the whitened sky… Continue reading
After the Storm…
This weekend, Portland was uncharacteristically covered over with a layer of snow and ice which derailed plans, brought an strange silence to the city, and gave a lot of us a break from… Continue reading
brið
Tattooed inside my upper left arm, easy to see as needed, is a single word tucked into waves, brið. Partly because I’m a bit of a language geek and partly because of a silly… Continue reading
How Cold the Branches Bear…
…the morning dark beyond the sill. A line from a poor no-name slob of an unfinished poem from a project that is still not much more than a vague set of ideas orbiting a… Continue reading
Home
I love Portland with its bagpiping unicyclists, its well-dressed statuary, the farmer’s markets, its DIY, pagan, can’t spit without hitting a band member, love in every flavor culture. It is home and I am happy… Continue reading