Take Me Home wandering, desultory, gazing en vacances an image appears out of the fog on the road by the bog preceded by heraldry: chugging, a harmonic rumble and the slow procession enters frame we're just old folks with nothin' to do so we ride around together and just like when you roll over coming out of a dream I glanced away - a moment - and they were gone
This is the fourth pairing in Confluence, a series of poems written in response to original photographs.
I began writing these during the pandemic, using the pictures I was making at the time. I have continued this practice ever since, always writing in response to my most recent images.
I publish a new Confluence every new moon and every time the luminary dyad perfect a trine.