La Nouvelle- Orléans

un petite poem

We're walking down that sens unique . . .

an arteriole branching labyrinthine out, sentinel gas lamps lit.

His terse Victorian step persists, a metronome

past darkened cabarets and shuttered bars,

past a lemon tree and hosts of banana leaves.

And the stones crumble languid beneath the weeds—fugitives from darkened fissures.

But a florescence has happened in the lazar's cadaver;

Insistent carnations blossom

and we feed on chicory & cane.

Though the walls are taciturn as live oak always,

creeping, supple vines wrought our synapses, a renovation.

And then we saw:

Dim and ember beneath climbing vines that cling rests still an incandescent nest

where the spectre of a whip-poor-will lives,

a mass of feathers and petals, thatched of thorns & leaves

that trills anti-diluvian verities,

prehistoric knowings of a thing:

That our bones are become boughs

this body a verdant thing.

a lyric photo essay by Beth Kirby

For a travel guide to N e w O r l e a n s visit http://localmilkblog.com/2014/07/wander-guide-new-orleans.html

INSTAGRAM | TWITTER @local_milk localmilkblog.com bethkirby.com

Share This Story
  • josypete

    Just beautiful!!! ❤️

  • Hummingbird

    In awe of this beauty. Thank you.

  • ysthing

    This is absolutely breathtaking! What a beautiful mind you have :)

  • foodstories

    The pictures are gorgeous 👌

  • Pari

    Stunning visuals and words.


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