Haiga Archive
Search results: photo collage
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Maxianne Berger
9 May 2022cricket song deep in the fissures of time chirruping fairies
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Christine Taylor
11 February 2019baffle
the crafted predator
watch
blurbirds nest here -
Debbie Strange
20 September 2018it was
as if she were
a butterfly
the way words flew
from her open hands -
Tsanka Shishkova
16 July 2017pink petals in gray hair—
an elderly couple
dances in the park -
Adelaide Shaw
27 April 2015summer dawn
a line of light holds
a golden promise -
Nicole Pakan
29 July 2011She went under at the age of fifteen, bootstrapped into
shadows and omission. Like fledgling revolution, she was
all elbows and ankles and steel, cutting her teeth on clumsy
hits, dealing in lies and speculation. Hers was a radical
sensibility, always metal, cold in her hands, the slow click, bolt
through the shaft of her imagination. Now she’s high
scandal, trafficking caution and cash, a portrait of long
thighs and wrists. There’s no way out when you’re in
demand, there is only down, down and onward. -
Nicole Pakan
12 September 2010you didn’t notice you loved her until you watched her, back turned, hop-scotch across the sky. they didn’t ask for reasons, but cast their fears in metal, and waited for those long celestial hours to turn to clay. tracing a filigree road through the heavens, the hooligan spirits are spitting a canvas of litter and mud. it hangs in the met, between warhol and matisse, and turns trapezoid on every other thursday.
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Nicole Pakan
31 August 2010sun shower—
the ripple of rain
in my coffee -
Linda Pilarski
21 March 2010Gion Temple #2
lost memories—
tattered fabric
on the fence -
Nicole Pakan
24 February 2010these types of women
try to make you think they are the same as all the others but the main difference is that they go to bed with their makeup on and never dry their eyes.they keep guns in the linen closet and wonder why everything is the color of mercury. she will get into your head with those loose curls and a two-foot crowbar, and the mascara lines on the pillow are the webs children make with red yarn. like clapping games and rhymes and secret handshakes. she is part of something like that, except bigger.