Sunlight Warms A Frosted Window, 6 Jan. 2018.

Easter Monday In the silence of this Unexpected storm Spiky daffodil leaves Thrust upwards Green exclamations In the fast-growing blanket. 4/2/2018 Maplewood NJ

Over the years I worked with film photography, I sometimes used long exposures to photograph moving water. It occurred to me today that perhaps I could layer stills from a GIF to achieve similar effects. Here’s one result of my experiments.

NYC near 125th St., 7/28/2018. Especially for @soulreserve

“frothy skirl of the river”

Luke McCallin, _The Pale House_

First Sighting of the constellation Orion at the end of summer 2017, Maplewood, NJ, USA (40.7739d N, 74.2739dW), 5:20 AM EDT (10:20 hr UTC), 9/9/2017. Notebook sketch with Pigma graphic pen on paper, approx. 18.7 x 26.7 cm. Original sketch is black ink on white paper. The digital image here is color-inverted white on black.

Rose Hips, Snow, 3/21/2018

earth and moon

you and me earth and moon

and our melting sky so full of shadows

aflame we’ll meet again quietly like this

let the world wonder our longing

we’ll tiptoe a little closer and kiss.

© SoulReserve 2018

A blue moon is a rare orb.

I prefer mine common and mellow.

And in such light,

I would take You,

Darling,

Slow... and... easy...

Lest our sudden, mutual combustion

Leave nothing

But nameless black Cinder.

@soulreserve

nameless moon

name this nameless moon this sapphire blotch in our starlit sky, take it and sink it in inky blue desire, pluck its supple flowers with pale translucent lips and suck their sweet nectar of love, lay me down on its crescent hills seeped in shimmering moondust and name me too. call me darling, call me love. wild and windblown I’ll camp down on this earth near you, so close to you I will see you move and cloud me gently devour me take over everything that is mine and then, as you outshine us both - me and this dreamy nameless moon, I’ll ache for you in afterglow.

© SoulReserve 2019

Parvati

I see her from afar, Sitting alone in the early day, Tracing gossamer thoughts And hearing the whispers Of her heart. Her muse is the One Who is not there, The One who is Inaccessible, Yet whose presence Is so real that He stirs the deepest passion Of her womanly soul. Thoughts shape images, Murmurs, words And she sings Of smoke and fire, Incandescent and all-consuming, Of drink so concentrated One sip intoxicates. I listen, taken by her music Toward her heart’s Center, Hoping for invisibility, That my presence not Disturb her muse, Hoping to be unseen By her consort, Shiva, Should he return While she is in her Bliss. ©sealanehill, 2017 For @soulreserve