top of page

shoots with morgan.

relent shoot.

laundry shoot

garage shoot

subway shoot.

fleeting show

fleeting shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

relent shoot

in the fishbowl shoot morgan won a photography award for this photo.

fleeting show

fleeting show

fleeting show

laundry shoot

laundry shoot

laundry shoot

laundry shoot

laundry shoot

laundry shoot

subway shoot

street shoot

in the fishbowl shoot

sparkler shoot

garage shoot

mix-medium explorations.

looking in from a distance.

(a story as seen through a keyhole and framed in poetry)

Distanced by blue, barely mountains,

a lone house sits on a lone hill, where quiet shuffles in stiffly, like starched arms walking through a day-before's motions.

It sits for tea, for time for tea; it sits (but without a creak in the chair).

It sits and waits for it's break, to be as a teacup breaks on wood, unexpected and hollow in its leaving of wholeness.

As quiet waits its turn to turn,

the evening sifts colors in the sky,

pushing slides, projected through a peeling wood window, then further sectioned frames; an open hole, blowing cream and curtain lace, (but soundlessly so),

and so, like so, seasons change and clouds change and winds change

and even change changes into something new that someone, somewhere, knew better than to expect.

The "expect" in the turning of hours, to be marked by a great grandfather clock,

…ticked by a grandfather clock,

tolled by all grandfather clocks.

The swing of brass behind glass, reflecting the chair, where, once quiet sat (in this room with windows)

and waited, as sound waits now, thick, in the tick tick tick of a moving hand.

If a young woman were to stand here, in a long, sloping, red-beaded, backless dress, perhaps a soft yellowing flower in her strong, burnt-brown hair;

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:9:14

if she were to turn from the clocks facing (where she studies her flower's framing),

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:10:18

she would eye a room spun in spurts, stuttering out a scene, but seen in continuum,

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:11:46

and she would perceive something's amiss. But, as she cannot see the song she learned as a child, learned in summer's full sway under the spark of fireflies between stars (the faint whisper of a creek creeping through mossy air)

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:12:22

like she cannot see that song,

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:12:49

having never seen it, she still knows it to be gone.

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:11:46

Or she would that is,

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:10:18

if this woman was in this house, on a dull, green hill bullied by barely mountains.

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:9:14

In this room,

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:8:34

with a grandfather clock and a wood chair on a wood floor,

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:8:9

framed by windows framing fleeing skies.

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:7:37

In her lack, a man takes the floor, he strides quarter boards with the tick tick tick,

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:6:49

of a clicking heel, of his steel-toed boots.

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:6:3

He is an old man (give him your father's name if that would make you uncomfortable enough to care),

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:5:12

he who has been here before.

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:4:46

As he sits, the chair creaks to meet his mass.

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:4:12

His sips cooled tea steeped in seawater,

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:3:5

until sips end give spin to a shadowed play,

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:2:41

a swirl, as if wind in a porcelain sky,

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:28:47

grains to ground,

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:1:50

a mound with swollen leaves as trees.

Edited Image 2013-11-17-13:0:26

This man, (the name you know), he knows this place, placed within his cup, left by the wisdom of his own lips.

Edited Image 2013-11-17-12:59:43

He stands, stills the clock, studies the mountain's breathless rise and sink.

Edited Image 2013-11-17-12:59:2

(In the crux of the cup, a figure slips by).

bottom of page