Sunday, October 19, 2014

in light of autumn cemetery

dried moth wings over morning dew
grave Poe prose buried shaded hue
seek mother's love ghostly spirit
tender hearts naturally inherit

uprooted bricks once old yellow road
endearments etched careless uprooted stone
smiles unseen passing headless rider
hallow deeds howling silent laughter

photo by Tess Kincaid

Sunday, October 12, 2014


I'll show'em. I'll show'em. Non-believers. A crank, they all say. I'll prove it! That crack in the ceiling the shape of Colonel Sanders. Right there! Wait! It's not there. Gone. It was. It was. I need more light. I'll show'em who's a wing nut.
"What do you want, Hilda?"
"Are you about done in there, Madam? There's two gentlemen at the door".
"They say they'll keep you where it's nice and quiet, Dear".
"Oh, let me be".
"And they have nice cushioned....chairs...and rounded corners".
Self-portrait, Vivian Maier
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