Tread gently upon this hallowed plot, guardian of spirits, rocks and remains buried by the hands of time and discovered underfoot by chance.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
A part from the raucous throng, two athletes extend their hands to each other out of respect for the sport, for the ferocious fight and for the future contests between them.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
Horror of horrors, enough's enough. The jock-o'-lantern's turned to mush.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
With a glance to the heavens we spy a piece of the infinite, and fashion in sound, story or structure a crude homage to the devine.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
A good place to think is at a lunch counter where a waitress named Peggy keeps your coffee cup full.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
It is the brave man who reluctantly carries the weight of royalty and the courageous woman who stands with him while he wears the oversized crown.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
Excuse me, sir. You wanted this job, so wise up and knock it off with the peekaboo.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
Location. Location. Location.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
Not now, but later when the kids who parked their bikes on the lawn are grown will those summers spent at ther lake be the best ever.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
All this parading about with flags and pretend pomp is child's play. Somebody make it rain.
A photograph by CLark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
Alone in the dark hour, a lamp stands sentinel to approaching sleep.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
The crunch of gravel underfoot, the creak of a wooden chair, the metal slap of the front door closing, assure the sense of a place called home.
A phoptograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
It would take courage to live alone in the woods, demarcate duty from desire, and listen in silence for the next moment.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
Maybe Emerson stood under the maple tree within sight of the crude bridge and heard the echo of the shot at Concord.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
They bought the car to ramble on the road along a twisted route without map or destination, going until the end found them. Instead time happened and all at once the dream lies inert, cast off in the weeds.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
A flag defines a nation. Absent one, it is aimless and mute.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
This meeting is called to order. Hats on. Belts tightened. Boots laced. Hammers ready. Let's go to work.
A cold rain comes. It could ruin the day. Instead a woman in wide-brimmed hat arrives. An umbrella pops open with room for more.
This solitary hegira of the soul vanishes in its ascent beyond the temporal bonds of gravity.
Ow, the earth winces. Into each straight slash the gardener pokes his fingers. Seed by seed he sows and pats shut the row so carrots can grow in diurnal measure of root and leaf.
Welcome to Wilkes-Barre. May your wait be pleasant, your journey safe and your memories everlasting.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
A man's got to be able to stand himself when he works the land. Pass after pass, the growl of the tractor throttling up one side of the rise and down the other, the stasis of the field and forest can make the mind wander when the rows need to be straight.
A photograph by Clark Van Orden and words by Jerry Lynott
James Hoffa Jr. President of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters talks about the book "I Heard You Paint Houses" and other things.
Love echoes with each bloom, Narcissus pseudo-narcissus.
