Uploads from Tom Wachtel, tagged shiny

337/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 01:52:28 -0800

Bedlam carries order. Sunlight carries night. Silence carries music. Darkness carries light.

333/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 13:18:39 -0800

The slow idea of evening light is dawning fast, dusk falling through the stalling air. I fumble for your hand as we stand then tumble through this brightly darkening night.

325/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 13:21:54 -0800

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

There's a tale to be run and a chase to be spun and a day in the sun so let's have some fun till the last spark is done.

323/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 14:11:25 -0800

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

Your lines are my lines. Your tears are my tears. I speak the lines of your tears. They make signs on my face and I tear down the hall and the wall. It's a race for the doors to all floors and the space to embrace.

322/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 15:20:19 -0800

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

There's a line in the ring when the square is quite round. The silence is slender. I can't hear a sound and may close my eyes as the last ball is played. Yellow is sad when blue is afraid.

312/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 09:24:30 -0800

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

I opened the windows and unlocked all the doors and sat down and wrote down a long list of chores. My, it's good to see the old place again. I haven't been here since the last time I was here, as far as I remember.

311/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 02:11:02 -0800

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

Mercy is cool. It drips through the ceiling and onto the floor. I get wet, you get wet, it's OK. Was that a sneeze? Bless you.

310/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 04:12:58 -0800

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

A river may run smooth, half-asleep, barely stirring in its bed, graciously accepting tributes from trusted and trusting tributaries. Yet should it wake, rough and gruff, and start to sprint, and change its tint, there's little to be said and plenty of time to wait until all's well that ends the swell.

306/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 11:37:47 -0700

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

Copper's a colour best left in the shade as verdigris hones its blade to ravish burnished splendour. Tinted, tainted, stained, unpainted hues, neither green nor grey, nearly too hard to see, almost too soft to render.

295/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Sat, 22 Oct 2011 15:20:42 -0700

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

The cutting glass cuts fine along the line. In this glinting ice, I move to catch the whispered word I might have heard. I move once, I move twice. The cutting glass cuts fine across the line.

280/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 12:11:11 -0700

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

Glass chains hold you in my heart. What will happen if they shatter? Does it matter?

245/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 21:37:35 -0700

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

Not all things snap. Some break slowly, while others just fade and decay. My train left at three. I had packed my bags but then I decided to stay.

241/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 11:01:47 -0700

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

The aroma of Cheshire, a cheese consumed with ease, rests like jasmine on the wind, pausing only to leave a fine-toothed candid smile in the seams of a finely-sewn creasing around the eyes.

226/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Sun, 14 Aug 2011 09:13:59 -0700

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

I hid behind a mirror. I lurked behind a wall. I waited for the sun to rise or perhaps for the earth to fall. I waited for the moon to spin but it wouldn't spin at all. There's a crack to the left of the mirror and a hole to the right of the wall.

221/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Tue, 09 Aug 2011 16:56:57 -0700

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

Billow silken willow in this futile fragrant wind. No-one knows how much you've cried, how little you have sinned.

215/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Wed, 03 Aug 2011 07:30:32 -0700

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

Your glaze is ablaze as you gaze through the haze at this phase of the moon, so old yet so very new.

345/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 12:16:14 -0800

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

Lurk in the murk. Twist in the mist. Rise through the slumbering soil, add salt and bring to the boil. Dinner's on the table. Sprinkle some oil.

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nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 10:48:19 -0700

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

Looking-glass, looking-glass, where might you be? Tell me a story. Sit on my knee and reflect on the battles we fought just for fun and the ones that once won were later undone.

246/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Sun, 04 Sep 2011 02:28:29 -0700

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

I didn't read the news today. The lights didn't change. Now I'll never know how many holes it takes.

225/365

nobody@flickr.com (Tom Wachtel) — Sat, 13 Aug 2011 16:23:00 -0700

Tom Wachtel posted a photo:

If you reflect upon flowers, flowers will reflect upon you. If you reflect upon mirrors, your ontologies will bite like a shrew. If you reflect on the future, you'll see shadows of things that have passed. If you reflect on the past, you'll see flowers and meadows and grass.