There is a goat dancing in the parking lot and this train cannot proceed along its track, interlopers interrupt on intercoms; there are packages of suspicion on the trail up ahead and a goat in a lot dancing round the cars. There is a goat dancing in the parking lot as a woman tellsContinue reading “GLUTTONY HAS GOT THE GOAT”
Monthly Archives: November 2018
PARIS IN PICTURES, SIDE STREETS
Wordless Wednesday off the tourist track… All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
IN THE PLACE OF THE FORMER PRINCE
I flew back to a day no longer this day, returning to the rubble I had run from to catch the last slab being laid upon my childhood buried under a concrete garden, not even a root to latch on to. I saw the permanence of the pavement pour over the past no longer possibleContinue reading “IN THE PLACE OF THE FORMER PRINCE”
PARIS IN PICTURES, MOVEMENTS IN MODERN
Wordless Wednesday… All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
A WHISPER IN THE FADING LIGHT
I heard them marching through the streets of Madrid, at midnight, under the first floor moonlight as you sang me songs strung from their souls, men marching a million miles away, a million years away from the momentary memory we were making, your fingers stroking the strings I’d pulled too tight on the guitarContinue reading “A WHISPER IN THE FADING LIGHT”
PARIS IN PICTURES, NATURE BEING NURTURED
Wordless Wednesday… All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
ENTANGLEMENTS
There is beauty and there is decay, they are gardeners of the same plot, seeking sustenance from the same sun, shade from the same soil, one awaits the wonder of the weather, the other; weathered by her ticking thunder. There is beauty and there is decay, they are inseparable, one holding fast to its height,Continue reading “ENTANGLEMENTS”
PARIS IN PICTURES, SCENE ON THE STREET
Wordless Wednesday… All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
THE THAW
Blue is the breath, blue is the earth, morning, early, the sky a clean canvas of white and the earth; blue, a bed of frozen blues born from dawn’s breath, a blanket of freshly fallen slow snow, trembling along the hairs of the land, caught in the calm before the crunch, before the footprintsContinue reading “THE THAW”
