Between the lines and through the lens…
Spring has left us shy. We flirt like sheep- cute but clumsy, forgetting what it was like to fold a summer into forever. Words come but feel cumbersome- you can only swallow so much of those ocean eyes before drowning. Sheep don’t swim and wool doesn’t do well in so much hot water. Be […]
Read More…
The sky is burning, the last light eclipsed by the night and we stop and stare like fools at its blaze, not seeing within this gaze possibility falling though our hands like snowflakes in a season that has kept captive the summer. The sky is burning while we travel in taxis, all of us […]
Read More…
Fragility falling through fine flecks of fair filigree, perfect patterns of individuality speckled on imperfect individuals. Snowflakes melt on steaming skin thin on time, too thick to break through, you cannot always sink below the surface of an iceberg, we cannot break through all that lays beneath, all the lies below the surface, it […]
Read More…
Memory is a shot of stillness sealed behind a lens that looks for what cannot be seen until it’s been frozen by the frame. Some see this as a season of rust and ruin and running while I see a freedom in this fall and in every breeze another breath to breathe brave into […]
Read More…
All photographs by Damien B Donnelly
Read More…
I climbed you today in downpours and falling snows, no snowflake ever the same, no footstep ever similar, I climbed you today in sunlight and stealing shadows, in strokes of paint splattered in your memory by artists as foreign as they are familiar, I paused upon your steps, your streets of steps, the steep […]
Read More…
Porcelain plant pot plots the delicious decay of decadence once eyed as ochre dancing next to dandelions in the dawn’s dew. Pretty painted picture of plants in a porcelain pot plays with the presence of past and present under the preservation of pressed paint. Gold garnered by the grace of the sun, amber’s earthiness […]
Read More…
Winter has grey wings, feathers of sodden soot that come from concrete clouds too dense to discern any light beyond. Winter spawns grey wings but spring is an architect of possibility by a canal of colour that sweeps in after the fright of the frost and baths us in a blithe breath that blows […]
Read More…
Cold clouds burrow beneath the forest, the spirits have taken cover, peace and fruit now buried beneath a bed of lichen, summer’s rose too ruined to redeem, her last scent is now a dream. Love has been lost here too on a wind that wandered from wondrous to winsome beneath a bed of burlap […]
Read More…
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 footprints […]
Read More…