in to the cave of our minds
thick with icy dreams
and thawed sparkles
some salvaged flesh of a dead laptop.
some scraps on the floor.
some skin in twisted shards.
and stray cats
can you hear me?
the light lowered
a photo was snapped and then night came.
hints of summer’s shadow
soon the leaves will fall
then the snow will follow
in gusts of swirling silence
layers on layers
all that was in the pool is on her mind
if you seek a body a water
to cool your feathers,
you may run into amy
and her pet duck, toes.
they never leave each others side.
often, in pursuit of a sitting pond,
they must resort to hoping fences
and illegally quenching their thirsts.
steel skeletons exposed against the sky.
a perch for only the bravest of birds.
the street hits back.
yellow sun burns
even the trees were crying
the nautical hour of brilliant light
forecasting our sights
into falling night
mustard and chartreuse
wending your way
burgeoning feathers loose
goodbye, you say
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
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
ominous buildings conceal the snarl toothed beauty of nature.
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
not everything has to be right angles
perspective: when lines get fuzzy
all the way up there, one step at a time
depths of layered reality, somewhere between shadowed pasts and ghostly futures.
haunted we are by glimmers of far off white.
even the stars are dying every second.
their light may pass us eventually but it continues and expands the universe further.
Posted in All posts, Double Exposure, Montreal
Tagged alley, amy vaillancourt, ghosts. montreal, graffiti, holga camera, Listpoem, stars, street art, winter 2011
“No, it’s okay, I got it open myself.”
tender on delicate branches, facing the slope to infinity of a brick wall.
feral city beasts using parks to their maximum.
inspired by the massive amount of snow that had fallen and continued to fall we decided to go out into the night and try to capture some of it’s enchantment. out in the alley we attempted to get some action shots of jumping off dumpsters into the puffy blanket but all that produced was strange ghostly flashes. we did however manage to catch this magical moment. it arguably took all the chaos of the universe to procure this chance encounter.
the corners we forgot
remembered with two blinks of an eye
i like looking at the ground because i am shy
but sometimes it is nice to look up at the sky
pigeons sit on electrical wires, vests puffed, toes warming.
but, they are anxious there and take flight, only to become cold and lonely again, wanting return to their friendly wire.
columba livia; the rock dove; the pigeon.
pigeons came across the atlantic as food, for colonists, starting in the 1600s.
these pretty, feral, winged, city-rats breed four to five times a year. there have been attempts to halt their successful reproduction with serious measures, like electrical fences and food stuffed with contraceptives.
You precious winners all; your exultation
Partake to everyone. I, an old turtle,
Will wing me to some withered bough, and there
My mate, that’s to be found again,
Lament till I am lost.
in fall time when
nature puts itself
there is something special about carrying things around on the ends of sticks. there is also something humorous about going around looking through people’s recycling for tin cans and then hammering holes into them with some finishing touches of garbage bag fringe. some things take a stretch of the imagination and a little bit of effort.
you know those people who can walk through walls?
over the last little while i have been developing this sort of theory that people are ok with garbage accumulating in certain places. maybe it is that they don’t really notice the piles or maybe it is the unwritten language of city, proper etiquette if you will. it seems partly due to the patterns of human behavior, the necessity of these neutral spots and there is definitely a location issue (slightly off the main street, tucked into a recess, never in someone’s front lawn). it seems that over time these spots become even more useful, somewhat like a reusing center but free, anonymous, ever changing; a reflection of the community itself.