© Mike Yost
Tag Archive for ‘black & white’
Big City beneath a Bigger Sky
© Mike Yost
Between Two Worlds
© Mike Yost
Communication is Key
© Mike Yost
Walk On In
© Mike Yost
He Listens
He tilts his head upward
Footfalls slapping against icy pavement and cracked concrete
His eyes open against the weight of an empty sky
That pulls at branches bare, rattling without the clap of leaves
The cold cuts sharply through the clouds
Through his jacket and through his bones
Through the very sun itself
Slinking behind gliding gossamer
He drops his head
Footfalls silent beneath icy memories and cracked thoughts
Eyes closed against the weight of an empty sky
That pulls at branches bare, dancing without the clap of leaves
He listens
© Mike Yost
Dancing on Brick
© Mike Yost
House of Leaves
© Mike Yost
Always Watching
I felt them on the back of my neck
Icy eyes with dangling fingers
Scraping just above the skin
Pulling at the fine hairs
I stop
And turn my head
Feet still planted
Narrowing my eyes
The porch void of any human gaze
I turn back, slowly, scratching at the back of my neck
Gravel now grinding under my shuffling feet
No one was there
No one was watching
And I begin to shuffle away faster
© Mike Yost
Entangled
© Mike Yost
Moving Forward
© Mike Yost
The Longest, Wickedest Street in America
No one calls it 15th Avenue.
I call it Crackfax.
Locals call it by its name, Colfax.
© Mike Yost
Fire Flung from Earth
© Mike Yost
Shadow Tree
© Mike Yost
Along the Shore
© Mike Yost
a lonely road brightened by a far-flung star
© Mike Yost
Vast
The Earth slowly turns its back
On a distant, dancing Sun
While serpentine winds
Drag clouds into oblivion
The weight of the sky
Fading black
Feels heavier
Feet held to rock beneath
I stretch my hands above
Eyes closed
Falling into the vast
© Mike Yost
Rooted
© Mike Yost
Gleam
© Mike Yost
Fleeting
© Mike Yost
Taking Flight
© Mike Yost
Of Brick, Cloud, and Dirt
© Mike Yost
Closed
© Mike Yost
I Traveled from Mountain to Brick
Under a crowd of lowly clouds
Gathered low in their windy homes
I traveled from mountain to brick
I left a muted skyline thick with trees
Gathered high in their windy homes
Above a crowd of lowly clouds
I stood in the long shadow of the smokestack
As leaves of variant and vibrant yellows
Danced like a vortex of amber, gold, and sun
I stomped my feet to wake them from the cold
Then thrust my arms into that leafy, swirling saffron
And danced in circles as a guest inside their windy homes.
© Mike Yost
Tunnel Vision
© Mike Yost