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Promiscuously Autobiographical
“I’m promiscuously autobiographical, but it’s never gotten me into trouble.” Samuel R. Delaney, interviewed by The New Yorker Continue reading
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Prozac-Tinted Glasses
Yes I feel unwell withoutmy Prozac-tinted glasseseverything is sharperthe news more abhorrent the horrors closerthe usual annoyanceslike wire-traps snapI take the persistentmockingbird personallyeverything is altered The trees in my daily forest escape differentiatethe greens unfold in a Pantone kaleidoscope birdsong susurrationripples in sunlighteverything everythingimmersionnot aversionlearning to manage the amplificationunbound my eyes exploreall the cinematic angleseverything… Continue reading
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A Venerable Tree
I realized I hadn’t been to see the old growth oaks along Bayou Metairie in the lawn-like front of the park. miss those venerable trees, a few of whom are special to me, so I went walking today in the forest arboretum looking for a venerable tree. There are some grand ones and not just… Continue reading
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Out Is Through
Day 17 since I completed my titration off of Prozac. I was taking it for symptomatic or co-mobid anxiety while in remission from bi-polar disorder. I’m generally doing pretty well although I’m irritable and suffer from what the literature calls flu-like symptoms but I call allergy/hangover-like symptoms, a non-specific. miasma of the body, as if… Continue reading
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What is the Ph of forest?
What is the Ph of forest when it’s littered with broken concrete returning to its elements: The highly-alkaline calcium hydroxide; the toxic Arsenic, Barium, Lead, and Mercury? Does someone monitor this in the arboretum, or is this place meant as a glimpse of the post-human world, the apocalyptic blossom of green, when the wild will… Continue reading
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Remember Me
I want to make a good impressionon the earth this forest to remember me like birdsong in the rain when all the rest of me is burnt bonemy life laid out at last (no cut flowersplease) at the Goodwill Store. Continue reading
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consider yourself a ghost
You got to be a spirit. Don’t be no ghost — Rastaman the Griot consider yourself a ghost alone in the woods without other people television phone internetwhile life of all kinds continuesaround you in green and brownblossom color and bird song assomething from a dream this dream see your self as spirit in a… Continue reading
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Mind Candy
Attraction begins in the ear as much as the eye. It begins in the mind and is heard and felt by the ethereal sense, not seen. Are they intelligent and well-read and thoughtful and, most importantly, are they creative? It starts with the incorporeal exquisite heart. Does it shine through like that famous sacred heart? … Continue reading
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Forest Thoughts
Is it my imagination or am I simply growing more perceptive the longer I walk in the forest? It seems the overcast filtered light spreads a Pantone rainbow of greens of the sort I’ve only seen in photos of the Northwest, and once in the Portland Japanese Garden in a drizzle. The soft scent… Continue reading
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The Conquest of Grass
They roll out of a truck riding growling orange machines steered with two sticks like the reins of a team of horses, more horsepower and noise than the simpler mowers they replaced, once pushed by dads or hired kids. They come with screaming air cannons strapped to bodies armored against their own noise and choking… 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, 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 