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erin malone photography

To Flee From Memory

My life is cold and dark and dreary

And sweetest in the gale is heard

Among the living and the dead

Of Men Escaping from the Mind of Man

These are the Days when the birds come back

Unwearied Still, Lover by Lover

Though, Halfway up the Hill, I See the Past

Fling yourself upon the sky

Broken Stairways

There is a solitude of space

It was passed from one bird to another, the whole gift of the day

These Are the Days When the Skies Resume

PORTFOLIOS

from the edge of here
in paths untrodden
fragments of missions
amico d'infanzia
grass studies
to flee from memory
loss
ELSEWHERE

Bay Area Photographers Collective

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