Photography, Poetry




My eyes fix upon monument for a giant

And in that state I covet —

Were I that tall. Were that body mine.

In my auspicious youth

I had hoped to master manhood

Only to masterfully refuse it.

As I hold myself to the highest standard,

That which only the Übermensch could meet,

I am distraught at every petty failing,

My unterwäsche drop around my feet.




x (3)


Paper Collage #4


The Iron Horse


A ravine widens between the great iron horse

And I, fumbling for my camera

Cars curve around my desperation

They must understand

I sense the quietening sky

Purple nightshade dyes nimbus clouds

Stuck by a poison arrow

My vision dims with the day

Impulse commands

The great statue all but disappears

I caught it too late


x (14) 2


Paper Collage #3


New Pitsligo

Up north past Ironfield, the Blackdog Rifle Range,
Trump’s pompous golf course for unhappy god-kings
And the pretty oak limbo of Old Deer,
A six-sided diner levitates among the trees,
Solid green on five sides, endless low sky on the sixth.
The solitary watchtower, a field scout in peacetime.

The patrons know each other,
Red and blue fairy lights dressing black pipes.
A middle-aged flower child approaches,
Crosses one leg over another,
Welcomes, lists off specials,
(She works here, apparently).

A wind-up gramophone and an electric organ
Doze in separate corners of the room.
Spirit in the sky‘ on the sound system,
Falls parallel to fluttering laughter
And the rattle of toy train wheels
Against toy train tracks.

Red LED sign repeating:

... how on earth will I find you
when all my searching is done
out of this world, you remind me,
there are more worlds where this one came from
how on earth will I find you ...

A cuckoo clock chimes, simply.
A caramel and ivory waiting room
In the mind of Ivor Cutler,
A rare Sylvanian daydream.