Jack O'Lantern Candles

Would really love to find one of these vintage boxes of jacko candles one day.

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Witch Walls and Fading Light

I love capturing the light in our house. Here, the bedroom.

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Madame Talbot's Skelly

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Let's Go For A Drive

Photo taken 1/27/15
Song by Dance With The Dead (click picture)

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Ghost Sentinel

Ghost by Pumpkinrot.

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For Bryan, With Love

My good friend, my heart is broken for you.

(Click picture)

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Spinning Skulls

Artist Christian Lemmerz
Song by Profondo Delle Tenebre (click picture)

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Space Skull Loves You

Song by Carpenter Brut (click picture).

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Night Drive

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Haunted

Philip Gough, 1967

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See? I Have Only Knives In My Basket

Photographer Caisak
Song by Julia Kent (click picture)

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Jack

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For You

Poem written 1/2015
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Nite Theme

From the film Baskin (click picture).

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Evening Drive

Evening Drive with Rot.

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You Lost Me

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Disturbing & Lovely

The Sleepwalker, 1956  by Walter Schnackenberg (1880-1961)

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Poem

Untitled

Child, 
what do you know
of despair?
For I have worn it
like flowers
tressed
in my hair.

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Photographer Chan Ming
Poem written 1/2015

Spookeh

As a kid, I loved Scooby Doo. Not for its story lines, of course, (even my young brain saw it was the same one over and over - and how dare there not be real monsters!), but for the dark and dreary sets, the spooky old houses, the thunderstorms and the dilapidated (yet inviting) old shacks. So I was thrilled when I found these while roaming around on Pinterest.

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Glimpses

Image found here
Song by Mychael Danna (click picture)

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An Awful Thing

Untitled

There is always
an awful thing
waiting for you 
in the dark,
the trick
is to be
the more terrifying
of the two.

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Artist Denis Forkas
Poem written 1/2015

Ghouls on Canvas

 I would very much like to try some paintings in this style. I'm not assuming it would be easy by any means...but it would be fun.

(Not sure of the artist...)
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Letters (With Photos)

I had a lover once, I had a lover twice, easily three times I loved. And in between my heart reconstructed itself perfectly like a worm. And my dreams also reconstructed themselves.
After a time, I realized I was living a completely idiotic life. Idiotic, wasted. And sometime later, you and I began to correspond, inventing an entirely new form.
Deep intimacy over great distance! Keats to Fanny Brawne, Dante to Beatrice.
One cannot invent a new form in an old character. The letters I sent remained immaculately ironic, aloof yet forthright. Meanwhile, I was writing different letters in my head, some of which became poems.
So much genuine feeling! So many fierce declarations of passionate longing!
I loved once, I loved twice, and suddenly the form collapsed: I was unable to sustain ignorance.
How sad to have lost you, to have lost any chance of actually knowing you or remembering you over time as a real person, as someone I could have grown deeply attached to, maybe the brother I never had.
And how sad to think of dying before finding out anything. And to realize how ignorant we all are most of the time, seeing-things only from the one vantage, like a sniper.
And there were so many things I never got to tell you about myself, things which might have swayed you. And the photo I never sent, taken the night I looked almost splendid.
I wanted you to fall in love. But the arrow kept hitting the mirror and coming back. And the letters kept dividing themselves with neither half totally true.
And sadly, you never figured out any of this, though you always wrote back so promptly, always the same elusive letter.
I loved once, I loved twice, and even though in our case things never got off the ground it was a good thing to have tried. And I still have the letters of course. Sometimes I will take a few years’ worth to reread in the garden, with a glass of iced tea.
And I feel, sometimes, part of something very great, wholly profound and sweeping.
I loved once, I loved twice, easily three times I loved.

Louise Gluck

The Obscene Clutch

H.P. Lovecraft

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(Another) Old Poem

Arrival

In the square of moonlight
the trapdoor 
opened. Nails
now rusted
no longer held sway.

Outside, the wind
held its breath
as what slithered up from below
readied itself for seduction.

We listened in the straining dark,
listened to the world
list, groan, and bend,
then slowly split itself wide
to what came.

We knew the night
was undressing,
knew that, afterwards,
our bodies would never 
be the same,
knew that tomorrow the sun
would shine
a different light.

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Photographer unknown
Poem written approx. 2005

The Fall

Artist Jason Chan
Song by Philip Glass (click picture)

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Isn't It All So Terribly Pretty?

"Night is longing, longing, longing, beyond all endurance." - Henry Miller

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Song by Portishead (click picture)