Posts by rscarlson


By on Apr 18, 2013 in Poetry | 1 comment

photo by R.S. Carlson Coxa. Trochanter. Femur. Tibia. Tarsus… and four of the five named segments of mantis foreleg flare spines to pierce and grip whatever crawls, flies or falls too near. The foreleg segments hang – at rest – half-reminiscent of a monk at prayer, awkward exoskeletal sacramentals, broad and thick; they hang from what, for me, would be shoulders and, scissor-jointed twice, taper to what seem frail twigs dangling astray but, to hummingbird, beetle or honeybee too near, the tarsi prove stilettos swifter than eyes, single or compound, commonly track, and their small spurs...

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By on Jan 15, 2013 in Poetry | Comments Off

photo by R.S. Carlson   ( — Had Emily D had digital zoom –) Hope is the thing with feathers at flowers in soft sun – that shares swift flares of fine-lined wings till fast-series files are done – and waits till after battery change to pose for zoomed-in-large – and stays in auto-focus range till detail is assured – and moves from blocking stems and leaves for foregrounds crisp and clear – and offers glints of beak and eyes instead of murky blur – and holds in best position for lens to zoom a scene to ideal composition for at least one photo...

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On the Third Ring

By on Apr 13, 2010 in Poetry | Comments Off

The late phone call brings the voice from China, from Illinois,  from Intensive Care. The snow has stumbled south from Seattle. The airlines hold their passengers as collective breath while sleet marches southeast to Los Angeles as rain where county commissioners count storm drains as items for next century’s budget, and news cameras will turn tosporadic rivers in concrete beds mounting current enough to sweep away children impervious to warnings  against the fascinations of waters rushing garbage from the city into the  sea. The news crews wait through clips of...

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