#behindthelastdoor

[behindthelastdoor]

Poem 1324

Beneath a blue gate Soft and languid We have a system— I breathe out, It breathes into me— A cycle Set to the tempo of the trees

[rabbitinthemeadow]

Jumping in late on the ask bandwagon. Just wanted to say your photography is so serene and yet so bleak. You make me proud to be from New England!

Haha thank you so much, I just try to capture the seasons which, for about 5 months in the year in New England, is pretty bleak. But I hope things get a little less bleak in a month or so when we finally start getting some wildflowers in earnest.

[tinysciencecow]

Happy Holidays! I've really been enjoying your blog lately (and your nightly field log too)! Hope you have a great 2019!

!!!! Thank you so much!!!! This is so so kind of you to say—not just the words, but also actually going and typing them to me. Thank you thank you thank youuuuuu and thank you so much for looking at my art :D I hope you have a magnificent 2019 and that all of both our dreams come true (but just the good ones, not the ones where, like, I keep leaving coats on the backs of chairs and getting too tired to put them away or the ones where I grow a mustache or very long and luxurious arm hair but maybe the ones where I spend the whole night doing something in Excel—that’s not so bad and I can see how that might lead to some kind of positive outcome, maybe)

[c-rowlesdraws]

That sounds like a great train ride! Do they feed you and stuff?

There’s a lottery in each car to select one passenger to humanely sacrifice, and everyone in that car shares them for dinner.

Nah they give us food. I’m gonna have a steak with some mushrooms and green beans. Amtrak treats u right.

[behindthelastdoor]

Poem 1334

You wear the halo well— Like hazy sun Wears spectral wings Triumphant over giants’ spears I dare not meet your lustrous eye— My heart is cloud Racing for shelter Behind horizon's door

[behindthelastdoor]

Poem 1381

We are all dirty Still marked by spit— Here, Aged rains and flickering beauty Remind us There is a spot where all things come from And all things go The moment we are furthest from the serpent’s mouth Is right before we’re swallowed

[behindthelastdoor]

Poem 1293

You are sweet thistle— To carry such a burden so close to your heart So the blue-sky darlings Might rest and find their mercy Before the thin wind Bears them aloft

[behindthelastdoor]

Poem 1259

Dandelion day— I am gray and vaporous as death For in truth, I am lost from the living But far from that life Beyond where I might ever walk I pour that life Deep into the warm, full earth Summoning another sun