Winter Runes

I have no eyes for a harrow, colorless winter.
I see only a deep and faded kaleidoscope,
 a sleeping season.

(film soaked in tea)

Travels Chapter 7: Here Lies the Circle of Stones

This day was warm and rainy.

 I had a general idea of where I was headed,

what I was looking for

but no mapped route to follow, only the word of some passerbys.

That's how most of that corner of the world came to be for me,

how I ended up there, and how I left it.

I followed a lane a few miles past stony and inviting homes,

upwards through pastures.

English trees tend to reach for each other,

and in doing so create alluring passageways to follow everywhere.

Reaching a plateau in the altitude, I sauntered into a clearing,

and found a holy place.

The earth was sown with mist and silence here.

Stones nestled in a corridor between mountains,

asleep for centuries,

humming within my hands as I traced them

 alone beneath a full moon.

(kodak ektar)

Anthony

 Don't let your heart grow cold,
as the world drifts from one color to another,
it is merely another shade.

35mm never ceases to baffle and amaze me.

Stowaways

November winds are deep shades of blue and brown,
in them we stowaway
 to lands far off.
In search of warmth for trembling hands.

(kodak ektar)

Chapter 6: Portobello

 Portobello Road was some sort of dream.
I didn't prefer London,
except this small corner that was laden with old things,
a valley of clocks and jewels,
 rusty forgotten relics of humanity.
Whose to say what hands have held them
and which have passed,
buried and bygone.

(black and white kodak film)

Carnivals

Soaked film from various carnivals I have been attending.
Spending so much time abroad has began within me
some kind of search to find what is America,
What I discovered so far is color, and sound, and strangeness.