A camera, computer and a compulsion.

Out and Back

Haven’t turned a pedal all week
Embroiled in toil in one’s work-life
Abuse of the body is gross
Heading to strife, too close to feeling weak.

Straddled saddle
Stowed sweater
Slung gun
Pushed pedals

Running from the sunset is divine
One’s mind clearing in clear light
Stopping to steal via emulsion is bliss
Found what’s right, it’s this for what I pine.

Sweater swaddled
Photos found
Atop drops
Back black

Home.