picktours

I promised you words, I promised you nothing. I didn’t promise anything.

Place is one-two punch two three,

for my face bursting out after

ghostbuster skies

trapped insides

even erasure leaves a trace. Complicates escape.

Dug deeped severed,

twisted all together,

splish splash spray, *yeah.*

I went camping!

On the drive to Mesaba in Morthern Minnesota, I killed a sandbear,

so I tried to rescue a dragonfly from a web.

With sticky strands gumming its wings, I did little but prolong its doom. And take pictures.

Why not favor the spider? asked Sam.

Because I am the spider.

Full moons, loons and fireflies,

day flat broke.

July third I attended a one hundred year farmstead anniversary celebration slash reunion of step-blood shooting guns drinking beer and waving old glory. This, too, is America. The boys in the field hunt for unshattered pidgeons.

Light fuse, get away.

Along the gravel road at Grandma’s,

shooting myself in the back of the head.

 

 

4 Comments

  • Donna?

    July 24, 2007 at 1:21 am

    I want to be able to comment on individual photos! Why take away what I’ve come to expect, dammit.

    Why did this autofill as donna. Why don’t I use question marks anymore. It’s Minnesota.

  • megh

    July 25, 2007 at 10:01 pm

    individual commenting would require more skillz that i lack, or sum other kinder photothing, a flickr or a gallery or picasa. i’m not against, just not four.

  • Sumit

    July 28, 2007 at 8:27 am

    like ur site…..

  • megh

    July 29, 2007 at 5:57 pm

    Thanks, Sumit.

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