cryptic envelopment
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Bayou Metairie: the birds
Submerged anhinga U-bird cruises periscope neckup looks for dinner victims The wild ducks feed on weed on the lagoon’send far from the breadbirds Lordly and isolate heronpoised in a cypress kingof wingéd fishers Beggar geese the direct avian descendantsof velociraptors The dark-beaked heroncalled Little Egret, solitaryat lagoon’s far end True egrets flockwhere food might bebeneath… Continue reading
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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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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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William Burroughs would like a word (or two)
I remember 22 and I don’t mind dying. I always had one last 1957 silver certificate folded in my wallet, coins for the phone, and the way to the next whiskey bar. Repeat after me: 504-522-9771. Manias magnificent opening night after night. The curtain of purple cannot mute the applause in my head. Repeat after… Continue reading
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Cool Runnings
When the ladies at work* put up the question on the whiteboard, what movie makes you cry, I had to jump up and write my name and Cool Running, and explain:.at the last, after the crash, after the final “Sanka mon, you dead”, when what’s Derice says “we need to finish” and they carry the… Continue reading
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The Fun House of Madness.
In a comment on a post of on Facebook I came up with the perfect description of my nightly dreamscape: A film by Federico Fellini, produced by Luis Briñel, from a script by David Lynch, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. Or as I like to to call it The Chase Light Colliope Fun House of… Continue reading
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Fire and Smoke
The habit Fargo winters could not kill,the wind swept chain link cage where in we wentto smoke, our coal end glowing in the snow,finds my half corona well intent to sit in searing heat suggesting itsthe end of things which others talk about,the dinosaurs’ revenge against the skythat left them liquifacted under stone. My watch… 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 