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The Last Temptation of Mark
I finished my Mardi Gras Day with a Buffa Burger, and stepped outside to order a car and vape while I waited. It was a busy day and my wait 25+ minutes, so I stood on the corner and considered the crowd around me. There was a young woman sitting alone at an outside table,… Continue reading
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The mind of Mark walks in the park
The ghastly drowned all float face down except for sweet Ophelia. Continue reading
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Me…and my…puddle
Just the trees and the critters and me in the drizzly old live Oak stand. Two distant dog walkers exiting and later a guy in a Bebop cap and goatee idly wandering the lanes between the trees; looks like someone you mught bum a smoke or a light from just for an interesting bit of… Continue reading
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City Park
The primordial captured in a park. The remnant bayou and old growth of live oak, cloaked in resurrection fern, crow home and owl haunt;crenellations of cypress knees stand guard against flood. Pines rise in defiance of the Gulf’s summer fury, limbs lost,trunks tilted but unbroken. This insistent forest, older thanthe centuries of city across the… Continue reading
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Random Rambling Revelation
I prefer to think of the random as mysterious in which you find moments of beautiful synchronicity. Life is a beautiful rebellion against entropy and the quantum unfathomable. We weave webs of meaning and social function out of the figures in the chaos to survive. Continue reading
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If on a winter’s night a crisp crackling hiss
Outside it was minus 41 farenheit, ambient, in the bright, white night. Inside it was 1910 Craftsman all original except the electric stove and water heater circuit, the rest cloth hung from glass posts. You could measure in hands how much horsehair was left in the frigid wall, between seven and ten. The windows were… Continue reading
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US Christianity is Cruelty
I have tried to keep politics off this page, but a recent post by one of my US Senators, Bill Cassidy, just blew a 50 amp fuse. He supports the Blood Red states that rejected federal aid for summer meals for poor kids who don’t get school lunches or. breakfasts for months. He argued “compassion… Continue reading
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Just a heathen, I guess
When The Troth, the Heathen/Asatru organization I joined 10 years ago, published the schedule for the Winter Moot and I saw a blog to Bragi and Odin, I immediately signed up. If you’ve been here before you know I’m a writer and primarily a poet of late, and Bragi is the first among poets, bard to… Continue reading
About Me
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Trampoline, Unlikely Stories, Peauxdunque Review, LMNL Anthology, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
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Well Bottom Blues 