Sta.sh
the alarm clock that always sits
by her bedside, reminder of that time:
a hundred clocks chiming at once,
even those never wound.
puppy toenails on the tile,
phantoms in the daytime,
mimicking winnie.
slow raps on the bathroom door,
"is that you?"
"i'm out here."
out there, beyond but here.
"we don't have to make room for him;
he's with us here all the time anyway."
what are they wearing? mama's
wearing gold, papa silver
shoes, yes, but if they're blue
the answer is no.
river, sea, and land
channels, conduits of that
man, that rich soul.
every time i see those books,
i swear i feel him...
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Check out his gallery if you haven't already... his hand-colored composites and photos are stunning in their depictions of NYC underground life and images of the occult and bizarre. Check it out! In other news, I think I'm going to be upgrading on some of my lighting accessories, so stay tuned for some fine-tuned lighting 
Peaceful 
