A Collection of Prose and Photography
The earth lurches and I’m thrown off-kilter., myself bewildered. A once stationary plain — a testament to tedium and manifest boredom — presently rolls beneath my feet, carrying me to I know not where. I care little at the time, for such is life — the sundry quakes, innocuous shakes that hardly break the status... Continue Reading →
Red rock sunrise, four eyes open, blink in perfect sync, drink in the mountain view from hotel room. Five minute ride — crosstown glide — and we’re staring, standing at the base. Was that a smile I saw on your face? I thought you just needed to get away. A mile high, few hundred feet more,... Continue Reading →
Hell ain’t some supernatural fire pit, a preacher once told me, where dancing nasties with pitchfork tails and razor nails taunt drowning souls in a magma swimming hole. No, he said, hell, for the dead, is the absence of God and his love and his light. And on this Carolina highway I might well and... Continue Reading →
Splayed across the swing she lays, in a pose that supposes deep contemplation — eyes shut tight against the sun, jaw slack, serpentine back, feet dangling, right wrist angled beneath the chin — a thin nod to to Rodin. Behind lids clenched, upon blank red canvas, (save errant phosphenes), her theater convenes. Whimsical thrills on... Continue Reading →
His blotchy red face shakes, jowls quake with laughter and I’m chasing after the point of the story, the source of the humor. In a half stupor I sit before empty beer glass as this pompous ass regales with dreadful tales from the day and I’m in no way in a state of mind for... Continue Reading →
Every morning ‘neath warming Dixie sky, upon his porch does the King of Rutledge hold his court in plaid and gray. Two felines pay homage at his feet, (last night’s pan of ham and greens licked clean), as squirrels leave home by fascia hole — a hurried zig-zag scurry toward yawning oak. Commence the civic... Continue Reading →
On the Plateau of the Everyday you operate, far from the edge in a circular Trench carved out by your mindless beating feet — a legacy of drudgery. But, oh, the ease in keeping feet one in front of the other, no bother for the ledge — the Edge of Normalcy — and the Unknown... Continue Reading →
A Sunny Day beckons through the windows, imposes itself on my conscience, demanding my dutiful presence. It is vast, outstretched, flowing away from me with an earnest potential, a groping command to be fully realized in the breathless glory of the out-of-doors. And I find it wearisome — taxing my will to motivate. It radiates... Continue Reading →
I am a pen, but what then when nobody wants a pen, or to read. They all have nails to be hammered, so I am a hammer. For that’s all they see. What becomes of this pen after blow, after blow? Ink dried up inside No beckon to flow. Lying a stub The pages left... Continue Reading →
Another day, another dollar wasted on soulless estates — grand staircases, marble fireplaces, triple-pane, bocote framed windows remote-controlled, and I shudder. Oh brother, home theater, dishwasher does laundry and also cooks dinner. Automation saturation — domestic overstimulation. No, not for me; not a house that talks at me, but a home that speaks to me,... Continue Reading →
B David Larson 