horizontal and vertical pillars
shadowed by curtained walls
Thoughts like dust
On a dirt road
Hung in the air
Particles moving apart
The chaos that will ensue
That is correct
summer days milling about
the alleys and backyards that
stretch on like a secret maze
never the same
to the monsters who get away.
ambling over leaves,
in the morning.
local elementary students showcase their first pieces of stencil art in the derelict forest behind their school. the message is clear.
when i found these piles of abandoned junk tagged up with these motivational words i was so impressed that i was tempted to make a counter comment just to egg them on but i only got this far;
‘it may or may not happen’
‘do more or less sometimes’
beauty’s reflection in the glass of water
the magic that creates fairytales
the paired loons laugh, giggle
at our absurd paddle boat antics
Upon a pivot they turn
Pursuing separate arcs
Definite, but together.
a comfort in the dark
in the midst of a journey it is easy to forgets where exactly you are going or where in fact home is. the world becomes a fantastical place filled with unbounded possibilities and newness. we collect souvenirs along the way in hopes of keeping a reminder of beauty that was discovered. sometimes these treasures are tokens such as rocks or feathers. sometimes they are memories of places or of kindness and sometimes they are artistic inspiration, an image or an idea. in this case it was an image to frame an idea;
‘homeless hottie, on the corner next to you.’
trespassing on an American farmer’s land for a few photographs while the vespas idle calmly on the side of a dirt road.
If there is one thing that is a common sighting in Detroit, it is the ‘party store’. They are typically peppered into the landscape along clusters of abandoned commercial areas on larger roads. They are open from 7am until 2am, save a few exceptions; January 1st: open until 4am, December 24th: closed at midnight and Sundays they do not open until 12pm, as a consideration for church goers. You can often cash checks, buy liquor, cigarettes, lotto tickets and a variety of pops and junk food. They use an elaborate sign campaign to advertise their products, which I liked because many of them date back to the fifties.
The French Canadian version of a ‘party store’ (a term mostly used in the mid-west of the U.S.) is called a Depanneur. The translation of this word to English is “a repairer of breakdowns” or “troubleshoot.”
Posted in All posts, Double Exposure
Tagged amy vaillancourt, depanneur, detroit, double exposures, garage, holga camera, Listpoem, nyx, party store, supplies
layers on layers
in quest for adventure
in a pile of sand
on a peninsula
zenith of daylight
this lonely set of highway barriers is a particularly old and beautiful one. i immediately was drawn to them, they had a sort of ancient throne appeal. the common barrier that you would find on a highway (also known as a jersey barrier or k-rail in the more western states) was originally designed for the safety of pedestrians as well as the elimination of head on collisions but has had arguable impacts on the movement of animals. the jersey barrier has more recently been deployed in anti-terrorism plights due to the durability of their reinforced steel design. their advantage in battle is their moveable but semi-permanent nature. but i must ask the question of this need for separation, if the lines are ephemeral how does one know what side of the line one is standing on?
a linear representation of shadow
parallel lines crossing on an angle
it is as if they were the beginnings of frogs emerging from some melted run off water, mere tadpoles with transforming bodies. a huddled mass of a new years hatch, fresh and anticipative for warmer months.
(read in Herzog’s voice)
Posted in All posts, Double Exposure
Tagged beaver pond, beaver pond Rupert, darryl singh, j morgan, jason mahon, Listpoem, nyx, Rupert, spring, Vanessa Morrell
why is it that strangers rarely if ever collide with one another? is it fear of proximity, intimacy? is it society’s ethics that drive us to comply to politeness or hurried steps?
or is it simply that we are on autopilot, our paths pre-determined in a complex maze of ties and steps?
the turcot interchange was originally built as a “dramatic” display of montreal’s global position as a metropolis, yet it has become a crumbling problem. its design accommodated both ships and trains to pass underneath its expansive footprint and in this case, deviant youth.
you may have been there before but not anymore
a fissure-like crack into a cavern of construction.
manipulations hold time and rule only to a test.
the tame and tribulations coincide in ennui.
playful interactions lend themselves purely.
in the darkened belly of places left to sit
creatures become silhouettes against
the light of the whirlwind sun.
gaze they do out into the world
trapped by their own innards
untouched snow where green grass grows
i want to live, here.
it remains one of my favorite weekend routines, to fetch the sunday paper and something fresh for breakfast. then i lounge around in the early morning to read and wonder about the world, until people wake up and get excited to do things.
Echoes of attraction
extend out into the
mirror of space,
ominous buildings conceal the snarl toothed beauty of nature.
Dear Grace and Adam, Siobhan and Dave, Ross and Tara, Eva and Craig, and Nic,
the ‘coon, the skateboard, the buildings, the photos, the beers, the cheeses, the walks, the dances, the sunshine, the queen of sheba cake, the softly boiled eggs, the brunch, the market, the apple, the ride, the crackers, the pate, the shore side.
civil servant art
moments fluttering with contemplation, self-reflection
images of escaping reality.
an attempt at being grounded
left as shadows cast upon the horizontal.
Posted in All posts, Double Exposure, Montreal
Tagged alley, amy vaillancourt, brodie noga, garbage, ghosts. montreal, holga camera, Listpoem, nyx, snow storm, step ladder
a vacant hole
now a layered picture
the opposite of a mountain
with a reservoir at its pinnacle,
collecting gravity’s treasures
I always wanted to be a geologist
not everything has to be right angles
perspective: when lines get fuzzy
all the way up there, one step at a time