Tag Archives: #america

B33 … one thing in common

The human race has one thing in common now, the virus, virtual and real, that is so apparent, but it makes us realize that we have a lot more in common and we have been mistaken, misunderstood, even dangerous to ourselves and others. They say in order to love others you need to love yourself. This time of being more alone physically is giving humanity an opportunity to learn this difficult task of loving ourselves and possibly truly loving others. It’s a symbiotic relationship, this love stuff. It is difficult to stick to your hearts intentions while many criticize your every move but that is the nature of the game, to weave in and out of the push and pull of others and keep on straight thru the pathless road. Now is the time to face death, that one space we all must enter, that dark and light terrain that no living creature truly knows. To exit from here is the one job no one can avoid. Help your neighbour, your brother, your sister, the four legged, winged ones, everyone you come in contact with to move with grace, in dignity. Life is short and in times as these one must realize we are all delicate and deserve what little love we may find to allow to pass freely about. No sense in any other ritual, simple caring from the heart is all that is necessary, stand your ground and give that sacred energy its home; your silent heart.

Images and Writing by patrick wey

B32 … I should have left yesterday

I should have left yesterday but it was more than i could do. Your tenderness and sweet lure, your soft words wrapped up in delicate promises; the walls could wait, let some other man be the martyr. I stayed, but much too long, days turned to years and now freedom by the door lies smothered in mould, wasted in tears, dead.

That was yesteryear. Times have changed, things whirled down a different tube. I lived thru the blues of the thirties, the rock of the fifties, dylan in the sixties, i lived thru the scattered jazz rollin across the rebellion, across the oneness dreams, across the distortion of the molecules, the plastic era, the one way, the christ consciousness, the darma minds, the whole lot of it all rusting rushing down the avenues of the modern day, LSD, 5G and what have you.

I come here without mind, my heart flattened out like an ancient stone. Stretched out along some creek waiting for the truth to find its light, waiting for the night to awaken, waiting for the hard rains to dry, for time to find its space here amidst eternity.

I’m not so unique, just like you, some of you that travelled the quiet road full of noice and nonsense and twisted decoys. We made it thru so we thought but here we are structured in a world messed up and impossible to read and here we are surviving, heading down towards the last train.

I love you i suppose with your miracles and angels and gods and demons. I’m gonna walk right on like nothing has happened, keep my head on straight, stand up to the last dream, no curse can keep me from meeting the end, open.

I’m gonna keep my promise no matter how much hate hits my guts, i’m gonna keep true to the roots of my veins, let my heart tell my story no matter what.

I’m not black, red or olive and most of the time i don’t feel white, german, italian, british, mexican,  just human, the last of the wanderers, a true seed, the mistaken, a dot stretched off the page…………………….

Images and writing by patrick wey

B30 … Mother Gaia WaterColours

Chiang Mai Thailand

She has influenced the greatest artists from Leonardo DaVinci, to Picasso, certainly Cézanne, without doubt Feininger, the expressionists, impressionists, even the abstract painters; Malevich to Emily Carr, Norval Morrisseau to Modglianni.
She, in all her wisdom is the basis of all art, her water colours are the glory of the earth, the colour and shape of consciousness itself.
I have been honoured to document a few of these paintings, from the crevices of St Paul St. Montreal, the puddles of NYC, to name a few, the water-surfaces across Europe, the canals of Thailand, the wetlands of BC and the alley ways of Ontario Canada.
Everywhere i go she confronts me to document her art. It is a mission i was chosen for to expose the beauty in the pure and the polluted waters of the earth.

St Paul St. Montreal

More – Patrick Wey Water Reflections

B11 … Belarus – Images from Below the Surface

Images and Literature by patrick wey

B28 … there are those

there are those that demand nothing but the air of happiness
that would live in illusion to satisfy this desire
defend it to the gods, the creations of creation
there are those that see only destruction
the despair of life and the absurdity of destiny
there are those that are too weak to be
and those that move between the limits of ecstasy
like a reflection from a drop of a passing rain
there are those that want what they can never obtain
that can never accept the wounds of reality
that act out a love as if they own it
project images onto well designed walls
live on the outside of the inside of it all
these are the people of the world
these are the movements along the avenues
the virus gone viral down the halls of the surreal
a world ending just beyond its birth
time slowing down inside the mind of man
like an autumn maple leaf falling
blowing across the endless forests floor
thru the uncertainly of shadows

Image and writing by patrick wey

B27 … america

the Badlands of South Dakota

angels of mercy hiding in the wounds
masters leading walking behind
the one and only goddess falling
with the hope of life dying in the ruins
this is america worn and deceived
this is the way to the heavens
this is the way of the lord

the simple dream the simple way
thru the forests and the plains
man and her inventions
from saints and shadows, time in space
the maya moves slow behind
along patterns in the mind

the raw beauty of your melting eyes
scriptures written all over your skin
as silhouettes of truth caresses the sands
of your miraculous body
i surrender within

here i make my stand and demand
a few smells of lilac, a taste of peach
from your delicate hands
and entering your heart
i see the angel is you
america
the land of illusion
the promise to be free

Alabama USA…just passin thru. the 90’s.

images and writing by patrick wey

336 … Mohalk along the trail

336 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/01/25 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
Mohalk along the trail, outside the frame.
A unique composition with the subject dancing outside of a frame and a mysterious head protruding almost emanating from ancient air from stage left. These days you can manipulate any image and create whatever composition one wants. Somehow it holds more weight when you know that it is the way it appeared in 3D reality. I don’t know why, it’s a cultural thing but it is interesting when a great composition gets it right in real life. Nothing incredibly special but as Mick once said, ‘it’s just rock and roll but i like it’…..somehow that fits; tho i never really liked that song much i do get the understanding and as half the population is now realizing, ‘it’s just another image, but i did it and i like it’.
The old and the new, the red and the blue, the way it was, the way it is, changing.
Image circa early 90’s

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Black&White35mm | DSC_0201.tif
Patrick Wey

314 … down some endless stretch of high way

314 Image-Content of the Day 2019/01/03 of-by patrick wey  https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
i don’t know how many years i have left but i do know i’m lucky to have made it this far down the line. It is getting to the point where i have more friends in the underground than struggling on the surface. It gets to that point if you live long. I can’t say it is just genes, i’ve been watching my health since the sixties when i first stumbled upon Jetro Kloss, author of the book ‘Back to Eden’. A bible on herbs, their use and the sacredness of nature and everything natural. Of course a little lsd didn’t hurt. I found a place along a stream that i would go to and take a psychedelic alone and stay up all night with a small fire and watch the horror and beauty of it all. That was my first and last real teacher, so i thought, then. Since then i’ve not learned much more, just variations on the theme.
I hear the gentle rain, still, in the background of my mind, making rhythm out of rhyme, space out of time. I have long gone from looking for anything in anybody’s eyes, searching for truth in vacant lots, busy street corners; the search itself was the biggest mistake. Some think there are no mistakes, just accidents. I used to think that, i used to think a lot of things, but that was yesterday. Some think they’ve got it figured out, know what it is all about; i just turn away and listen to the gentle polyrhythmic drumming of the rain, it soothes the weary soul, makes me feel just perfect. I can say i don’t fear death any longer, but we will see. I have seen too much, questioned everything, surrendered my self to the mystery. I am truly nothing, made up of pencils and words. I have no need to be and yet somehow i am and that is perfectly fine with me. I am the illusion maya talks about, as you are. I hear the soft rain take my soul or whatever it is it takes and i leave as sleep becomes my home, down some endless stretch of high way, i’m gone.
Image circa 90’s down Arizona way i believe….out off the high way, the stretch between here and nowhere…….writing – yesterday.

302 … hurricanes blowing across the sands

302 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/22 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day

hurricanes blowing across the sands
turmoil on every corner, every street, deceit
you got your love secure and camouflaged 
waiting for a little breeze
for some relief from the heat

Words trampled and crushed into little packets of self contained messages colonialized like small islands off the coast. How did it ever get to this, warped boats over treacherous waters carrying the cargo of ‘boxed-up-meanings’ leaking into the vast unknown seas. It is here we attempt to understand each other with a soul full of emptiness and a heart forsaken across discontented distant waters and a sincerity to reach into each others arms, sabotaged.
The drifter walks ahead already looking back at the silent coast and the ones so dearly loved. With the scrap heap of the west on our heals and the parade of saints playing in pools of nymphs and pirates and such, who could have ever guessed we were end-bound. What used to survive desolate in the alley ways of the metropolis we now find in remote villages across the globe. Like an unstoppable disease of the heart spreading like thought waves doomed by its own desires, humanity crawls along alone. There is no way out for it, only more illusions to soothe its fateful appetite, and as the drifter always says from his cool twisted damp lips, “choose careful, beware, everything fades towards the end of time”. And with that said the ships unload, the docks disperse, the constant pounding of the drums continue along the avenues and into the endless winds of dream, things come and go.
Image circa 80’s two slides sandwiched into one…writing yesterday

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Manipulations (Film) | 00066.tif
Patrick Wey

297 … The open road:

297 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/17 of-by patrick wey  https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
The open road: where in the hell is that? Nowadays you can travel half way around the world, carry a cell phone and send selfies live back home, but where in gods mind is that open road? Where is that place where real freedom is hanging in the air, where there is no direction home, no place left to be, no one to aspire to; where is that road? There was always some place to get away from, some place to feel your way thru. A few thousand miles down Route 66 seemed an eternity, no one could track your step, you were on your own, maybe a phone booth a couple hundred miles down some dirt road could get you a scratchy voice to some past you left behind; if you needed to be lucky.
Leaves of Grass found falling in the air long ago, now nothing but splashes of dull colour from eight miles high. The open road is a myth like Robert Johnson and answers blowin in some wind fallin in some time zone that can’t be reached no more; so far outa touch from this space only ancient text can attempt to reveal.
The open road closed for some museums reconstruction, fake images bracing imaginary brains, modern students with science degrees in hard-luck while the true old road is left dying alone in some ditch. The road warriors are not what they used to be, whatever that was. That’s the way it is, nothin stays the same but if you’re really careful and time is on your side there is still a way to get a glimpse of that road that is barely open yet for but a few that just might make the right moves. But beware, it holds nothing but raw freedom and that has left most lonely, weary and desperately miserable in the end. But, for but a very few of the few, the drifter does escape.
Image Infra-red B/W 35mm circa 80’s – some 60’s look-a-like of Highway Route #66, 61 or whatever, down some lonely New Mexico highway…Writing; years in the making, squashed into yesterday for no tomorrow.

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Self-ies – Portraits | DSC_0094-2.jpg
Patrick Wey

295 … it’s not cold yet but i feel the chill

295 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/15 of-by patrick wey  https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day

it’s not cold yet but i feel the chill
the world is goin to sleep
the night light is flashing red
and even shallow is too deep

the heart that loved you
the one you thru away
the last kiss on the wet tracks
when there was nothing left to say

like a love that was pure as fire
and a caress as simple as the wind
i fell for you and you wouldn’t let go
i wonder sometimes, what could have been

now time has found its way once more
down this weary road of life
but if i could do it all over again
would i take you for my wife

it doesn’t really matter all that much
what would or could have been
we were just two lovers as such
along a breath of restless wind

the tree sways in the night light
looking for a place that will
shelter the bitter damp air a little
it’s not cold yet but i feel the chill

Image circa Slave County Alabama 1992 – writing yesterday

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USA | DSC_0070.tif
Patrick Wey

244 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/25

244 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/25 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
Dancin in the Desert
Self Portrait…..when i was traveling alone i often switched on the timer and jumped into the scene for a little variety from the barren landscapes i was facing inside and out.
Circa late 80’s New Mexico or there abouts.

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People I’ve Known | DSC_0430.tif
Patrick Wey

235 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/16

235 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/16 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
In the chill of a damp dismal day i set out to conquer fear. I headed straight into the cold frozen swamp of the forest and fell to my knees in prayer. With my forehead on the ice and truth in the wind i felt answers swarming unclear and delicate until i cried forgiveness for the people i’ve been, the things i’ve done with my arrogance and slippery deceit. i surrendered to the maker until my tears froze to the earth. A cold chill crawled up my spine and landed deep within my brain. With my mind belonging to no one to nothing but the cold dark truth within, I cried till all tears warmed up inside of me with a peace that can only come from humility. I left the forest with the strength of ice as the softness of water.
Image circa 2010 writing Oct 2018

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Colour MIsc
Patrick Wey

229 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/10

229 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/10 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
The shimmering factories are fading, mothers and fathers dead or dying, cancers injected into their skin into their bones into their brains. The years of building trinkets and guns the days of sweat and fun, those days are goin and done. The ghost of mechanics still rings in the suburbs of industrial dust with digitized robots of heartless endeavours for post modern toys of comfort and joy. The world is changing, the new breath of dream of america is here and the dying of tradition is rusting away in the alleyways. We are moving on so it seems tho we act like we’re still catching our breath at the edge of the cave. The new interconnected silicon and cell will fulfil the ideals of the few and the new wars to survive are already being fought close by if you open up your eyes far enough from the dope of entertainment and nourishment of unnaturally created compounds to soothe our plastic souls. The days ahead are bleak for many, the work is never done, jesus with the good guys on one side and the devil from the dark on the other. Call it what you will; they say, ‘confusion is the best division’, but down here everything is silent and smooth and there ain’t nothing to fear cept your imagination running………..
image circa 80’s writing oct 2018

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Manipulations (Film) | 00096.tif
Patrick Wey

228 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/09

228 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/09 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
we walked thru city streets down, together, past melting buildings and sleet across our face but we never stopped, always kept one foot in front of the other. we dreamt this, we kept our promise, we held on, we loved, we slept in soft surreal beds, crept along thru neon clubs and scenes dim and rough. we managed to make it thru to the other side with few scars and we left the dreams calm and lost them along the ditch for others. i remember the new york city streets and the flavour of the cold. i left the night along the canal like anyone else weary of the damp illusion of views that are impossible to make exist, had to be destroyed, set aside. she said, “wish we could stay here forever” and i wanted it too, but things change and there ain’t nothin one can do. the many years have passed, slid across my brain but still the memory lights up my heart when i fall back there.
image circa 80’s writing oct 2018

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Manipulations (Film) | 00090a.tif
Patrick Wey

226 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/07

226 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/07 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
Here i stand lookin straight out at the world, my bag, my journal, a camera or two. Time had twisted down a few roads since this shot slid into view. One could be what ever one wanted to be, looking back. Outside a southwest mansion with adventures weary-dust upon my face i rambled around there for awhile. There were good times bad times but mostly times with a sense of freedom tangled up in the wind. I miss those days when life was just what it was, a purpose driven by the walk, the way one would roll a cigarette and puff a little tobacco, the way you could go that way or this way, didn’t matter all that much as long as freedoms illusion wrapped its arms loose around your coat…..yesterday, all my
photo circa 90’s writing oct 2018

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People I’ve Known | DSC_0245.tif
Patrick Wey

221 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/02

221 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/02 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
walking around town with my head in the clouds, lookin to see what i can see, lookin to be what ever i be. no worries, in a dream, livin free. i got no place to go, nobody to be, i got nothin but my feelin free…..this is the way i remember some of my youth but sometimes things change and sharp realities slide in. you can see them if you look quick to the left, catch a glimpse as they float by but if you’re really swift and in tune to the day you can brush it all aside and get right back to that good old young to be, forever free……..it’s a dream, lasts awhile then fades then reappears then again….
image circa 80’s, writing yesterday

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MotherGaiaWaterColors | P1040004-2.tif
Patrick Wey

203 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/14

203 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/14 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
Sunday afternoon with rain lying across fields
and roads wet of autumn
while time had moved in slow
with nothing left to show
the sermon short and swift
and the end just ahead
where the mind shall lift
across the divine to home
Makes you wonder just what was on their minds as they traveled home from their Sunday afternoon church gathering. Strong christian beliefs sheltering their hearts from the cold and damp world surrounding. Perhaps they have it right denying the spark of electrical energy into their homes and the combustion engine into their ways. Perhaps the curse of modern science really has gone against the natural way. Perhaps their visions lie aside the natives earth and man has gone too wrong too far. Perhaps man has not gone far enough. Perhaps you need not know to live right.
circa mennonite country just north west of waterloo on. can. 1990’s

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Miscellany | DSC_0122-2.jpg
Patrick Wey

192 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/03

192 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/03 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
Coral Andrews with pen and pad in hand interviewing some long haired rock star. I have no idea whom. We were probably back stage wandering about, having fun, doing our thing, staying out of trouble……until later on.
circa early 80’s probably

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People I’ve Known | DSC_0123-2.jpg
Patrick Wey

185 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/27

185 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/27 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
Octopus Lady Offers an Escape
‘How I wish
How I wish you were here
We’re just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year
Running over the same old ground
What have we found?
The same old fears
Wish you were here’
PinkF
Circa 2001 aSpaceO

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PhotoArt | DSCF0033a-2.tif
Patrick Wey

184 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/26

184 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/26 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
A beautiful woman i remember. She was an inmate in P4W (Prison for Woman) in Kingston On. At that time, up into the 90’s, P4W was the only prison for woman in Canada. Canada is a huge country. Many inmates especially anishinabe had few, if any visits from family or friends thousands of miles away.
It was an honour to be a helper for Vern Harper whom conducted sweat lodge ceremonies here and in other prisons in Ontario.
The woman were always thankful and gracious for our support and work to make this happen for them. I remember hot afternoons working around the fire joking with the women and having to hide my camera when they would warm me that the warden was coming out to check on things. The warden was a nice person with a beautiful golden retriever that she would allow to roam around the yard. The women loved the freedom for the afternoon to laugh and also to have sincere conversations with Vern. There was always difficult decisions members of the sisterhood needed to deal with. The sweats were always hard and rewarding. You could tell from the spirit in the air.
circa early 90’s

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Black&White35mm | DSC_0053.tif
Patrick Wey

183 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/25

183 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/25 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
my good friend Morris Poile lookin serious…..back in the Kapka days way up there north of Thunder Bay…ceremonies for ten days in the spring and fall.
some of my most precious moments lay along that Kapka river and still soar up there around the mountain, Morris was always there lending a helping hand. a trickster with a good heart.
circa maybe 15 years ago or so.

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Black&White35mm | DSC_0042-4.tif
Patrick Wey

181 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/23

181 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/23 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
i can’t keep up. Everything is moving too fast. I can’t understand this world. Yesterday it was so easy to believe. It was simple, things meant what they meant. Today everybody changes so fast there is nothing to hang on to. One day this is good for you and the next day it is life threatening. Makes you wonder if you yourself had it right. Maybe i am just as wrong as the rest, maybe things are meant to disappear, maybe life is nothing much at all. I think i best keep praying.
On the Streets, Circa 70’s 80’s 90’s etc.

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Miscellany | DSC_0136.tif
Patrick Wey

166 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/08

166 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/08 of-by https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day

Portrait of a man on the street looking straight to me thru his lizard eyes.
By now he’ll be back with his maker and isn’t it strange how we conjure feelings, emotions, liquid conclusions about things that are now dead and invisible. He was well with his gesture from my camera, a simple love in his smile. Someone with a few stories easily melted into his mind, you can tell by your imagination of his heart, by the well worn wrinkles in his leathered face.
circa 70’s somewhere, some city in america.
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Canada | DSC_0139.jpg
Patrick Wey

163 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/05

163 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/05 of-byhttps://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
Suspenders and straw hats walking thru the concrete paradise
dreams of salvation lying in the furrows of their fields
baseball fun waiting in the sunday afternoon school house lot
generations of mennonite men and boys and dreams real and not….…

See More

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Canada | DSC_0162.jpg
Patrick Wey

162 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/04

162 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/04 of-by https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
You can’t stage shots like these. Grown ups acting out a taste of their worlds for a flash of a second. Who knows what’s goin on here? Mennonites having fun with my world at their own expense? Possibly they were talking before i got the shot about my camera infatuation and all just a few years before the onslaught of the digital age whereas practically everyone’s a photographer of sorts documenting everything that moves. Us normal white folks used to make fun of the chinese, asians and their obsession with taking a shot of themselves in front of just about every structure on the planet. Nowadays everybody’s doing it. I thought i was unique, perhaps i was.
They work hard, eat fulsome meals, live long lives, pray to jesus and treat the land as a gift from god. Many have a great sense of humour and many live their lives rather like a mule, hard and stubborn. This is just one point of view amidst many; simply for the sake of my image/content for the day. There are moments it feels like an unpaid unappreciated job that must get done. That is the pressure that one impresses upon oneself when one commits to a procedure for whatever reason. One that comes and goes. It is already gone; having fun again. Better quit while things are goin well.
Mennonite Men circa late 80’s but it could have been yesterday.

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Canada | DSC_0762-2.jpg
Patrick Wey

161 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/03

161 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/03 of-by https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
Death and life walk hand in hand down the road to where?
Past the farms of life for death on top of indian blood
Down the roads where ancestors lived and died
Some in vain some for good and where some still painfully hide
The Heidelberg Hotel serves limburger cheese and mennonite summer sausage on rye bread. I never got to know my dad much as he left my mother with eight children when i was 5 or so. When i was a little older and could do as i pleased i visited him more frequently. A few years before he died i picked him up one day and took him to the Heidelberg and ordered two of the infamous sandwiches. He couldn’t believe there was still a place on this fine earth that served such an ancestral feast…..that and a glass of draft beer. One of the few memories i have left swimming around in this brain some believe is mine. This land held memories long dead passed on beyond the remains weighed down by engraved stone into living eyes here, but this land holds remains of remains of remains as far back as the stars and beyond. We live a short time in the scale of our vast imaginations and time stretches far beyond all that i presume. The i i presume as me has come and will go with a whimper in this mysterious scheme of things.
My ancestors arrived in the neighbourhood in the 1840’s so history says and i came along in the late 40’s of the nineteen hundreds but the previous peoples of this land some claim go back 50,000 years or more. Numbers. None of this matters much to me. There was blood shed, deceit and love as far back as humans walked upon this incredibly beautiful planet. I’ve done my share to walk my walk as best as i can thru contradiction and fiction, to be as i am to be as i am not. These words will crumple as the rye stone returns to whence it came, even the limburger is doomed to become something inconceivable.
In honour of tombstones of limburger cheese and summer sausage and rye bread and beer.
Circa late 80’s

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Canada | DSC_0084.jpg
Patrick Wey

137 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/10

137 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/10 of-by https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
Madness on the corner, uncertainty in the street
turmoil in the dream world
where umbrellas try to sleep.
and with all there is, joey’s on the move
classified time left behind in litter bins
truth splattered in the streets.
…..words hardly begun untitled sifted like a scene
can’t determine what’s going on
where you’re going
or where you’ve been…..
circa: america facing forward dragging along phantoms

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USA | DSC_0236-2.jpg
Patrick Wey