Author Archives: nyx

morning in alcove

 

run off

 Amy Vaillancourt

rocky

canal truck stop

An epic adventure along a dead dream.

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lines

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through thick and thistle

 

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ice cold

in to the cave of our minds

thick with icy dreams

and thawed sparkles

against the wall

 

the parade

tide boat

All aboard! tethered ship.

the emerald isle

 

blue bird

 

tired?

cabin wall

wood panel

heavy metal

some salvaged flesh of a dead laptop.

some scraps on the floor.

some skin in twisted shards.

new shapes

and stray cats

car sandwiches

end of the line

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rearview moss

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hobo elite

 

deuce

 

sending out a signal

can you hear me?

the wall

 

urban hunting



daydreamers



raccoon candy-cane



flavor of the week.

toes in the water

to the monsters who get away.

bouncy tree


bare footed

ambling over leaves,
fallen trees
in the morning.

guest blogger


split personality



one half.

out for a walk



buttercup

a stop by the side of the road to play in tall grass.

cage. bird.




feast on this

dusty bluff


rattle snake alley
lined with thistles
exposed dirt
where feet had tread
fences cling
to the edge of cliffs

a hot summer day


hints of summer’s shadow

soon the leaves will fall
then the snow will follow
in gusts of swirling silence

coney

island




“hey do you girls want a paper bag for that beer?”

“um no, not really.”
he hands us a small sized bag from within his bag, identical to the one covering his tall boy of cours light.
“uh thank you,” i respond, covering up the same labeled can in my hand.
“you know that it is a 25 dollar ticket if you get stopped by the police with open beer?”
“wow that is like a deal where we come from.” jessica and i look at each other and nod in agreement.
we all sit on our benches and take a few sips looking out over the water. taking in its horizon.
“you know if you want to find an interesting time you could go down to the public court house. there is always a lot of action there. you don’t even need the ticket.”
“oh ya. i guess that is an idea,” i reply, looking over my shoulder at the tattooed russian hoodlums playing hand ball in cages, glistening with sweat. we sat there and finished our beers as night fell around us. i was quite happy where i was, this place was nutty enough for me.

hidden treasures





uncle denis is a celebrity in a certain part of the world. his eccentric lifestyle and dangerous sense of thrills have earned him many an article in the local news. but there are many other stories ones that no one hears, ones that warm your heart.
this pool in his backyard is hidden, lying dormant like a childhood dream. the water so thick with tadpoles and frogs that it hums and croaks with life. a creation inspired by both the savage and myth.

who?

loaf more



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’

can do




the killing scene (out takes)

this is a scene that does not fit the ‘script’.
this is filmed in super 8.
this is the slowest runner in all the world playing their instruments.
this is a bus graveyard.
this is a beautiful frenzy.
this is guts and glory.
this is thank you.

the water’s edge

beauty’s reflection in the glass of water

the magic that creates fairytales
the paired loons laugh, giggle
at our absurd paddle boat antics

out in the middle of nowhere



somewhere in mid-northern michigan while taking a supposed short cut we came across this lovely setting. it could be described as a road side mud clearing dotted with army trucks and about as many half bred buffalo/cattle (also known as either beefalo or cattalo) . i have only my little shreds of evidence and some theories as to what kind operation or militia might be gathering here. though admitably it did have a sort of futuristic apocalypse feel to it that i kind of liked, but also found disturbing. i would warn you to steer clear of it, but in reality i have no idea where it was or how to get back there.

light action

a comfort in the dark

Vagabond


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.’

sumac grove

trespassing on an American farmer’s land for a few photographs while the vespas idle calmly on the side of a dirt road.

party time



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.”