Wednesday, July 29, 2009


The colors are subtle - the beauty tremendous. You will find yourself walking back through time to a world she sees through her camera's eye. Nostalgic and current, these photographs will remain in your thoughts long after the book is closed.

Follow her here:

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

The Sitting Room

The Sitting Room

The house has devoured her already
There is no one

No one anywhere

It had nothing to do with silence
When the lives of the others passed by
It was only the idea of it

Waiting in the sitting room forever
Anxious for echoes
It all simply vanished

The mind boggles to remember
A woman's silence
Faintly trembling in his hand

A certain sense of loss
Developing out of the pictures
And that was another great thing

In the same room no one knew
What day of what year it must have been

It was at the next corner
They grabbed each other for support

Subtracted and divided

An empty ghost of light
Holding up a cocktail glass

Hearing what we would have said
Through the bones in our head

Monday, July 27, 2009

Arms Outstretched

In the back yard
my mother swings
careful not to touch
the weight of gravity
dragging her
across bare moments
into rooms of pale color
where silver shining fishes
fly into her face like light
what she said was:
'faces bow down to the ground'
a certain solitude here
the arms outstretched

Sunday, July 26, 2009



The clump of eucalyptus trees
still form in my mind
it doesn't say anything about my silence

every morning around sunrise
this small island goes insanely wild

but it's too hard to explain
impossible for me to focus

sometimes I wake up

and stumble upon the middle of nowhere
with two sticks and a sandy map
I make my way back home

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Angels in Black Dresses

Angels in Black Dresses

We are angels in black dresses

We are the excitement in dawn's faint light
We rush to the other side of the street

Only to find an empty field of night
Flashing forward as if it were a cup of tea

We do not arrange the spaces between us
We only know the tiny crevices are meant to be more

Than borders that separate the goodness within each one of us
Dreams are just wishful thinking

The dead drop out of the sky like snow
They wake us when it is over
all content here is copyrighted by Janet Larson 2009