There is a resignation in the cone of a white pine,dropped by its mother onto a clump of dried mown grass,which I arrange among my collection of spent things, white sap coating my fingers in resinous gratitude. I remember when… Read the full article
Help me lift my head upthat I might see the full arc of the sunone last time before I fall I want to watch the black rat snakecurl her tail around the base of the forsythiaand pull herself free of… Read the full article
We will stay hereUntil every last petalHas dropped from our stemsIn honor of flowers plucked from life too soonTheir pristine white and luminous yellow and red and purple and orangeEtched into the memory of a fading blue skyOf day turned… Read the full article
Blackbird singing in the dead of nightTake these broken wings and learn to flyAll your lifeYou were only waiting for this moment to arise Blackbird singing in the dead of nightTake these sunken eyes and learn to seeAll your lifeYou… Read the full article
Impossible to photograph the entire length of a tree’s tallness in a Redwood Forest. There is no vantage point from which to take in the details of each tree’s skin, branches, fingers, moods. The palpable energy of the forest, yet… Read the full article
I promised to returnto the shaggy mantle of grassthat binds yousurrounded by golf courses, which should amuse yousupine, facing westward hoping to catch the sunset,at least it seems that way to me. I wondered if a gravestone had been laid,wanted… Read the full article
Morning The Sikh soft kurti flowing, glances up as he passes beneath the balcony His grey wood staff, tapping the pavement, thrumming to the center of the Earth The morning’s light flickers through the trees and the wind chimes a… Read the full article
I imagined papering my body with the translucent skins of onions, the unsweet scent shielding me from predators, a perfume of protection to wear under my homemade clothes. Running a fingertip through the slick of olive oil on the bottom… Read the full article
I moved to New York City from San Francisco to run CBS Records’ Customer Merchandising department, a heady job for a young woman barely two years out of college, producing graphic and photographic merchandising visuals at the recording label that… Read the full article
On a dark and cloudy Friday morning six years ago, with the rain pouring down on the commons at Columbia University and students shielding their heads under umbrellas crippled by the wind, I holed up against the early summer chill… Read the full article
…I like to take long walks through the villages and cities I visit, taking pictures of street scenes and landscapes as I go. But mostly, I like to take pictures of people, stopping them to ask if they would mind…. Read the full article
An Asphalt Shadow Self-Portrait remembrance of The Great American Eclipse. NOTE: I first published these photographs on my Ah, Nature…blog on Google+ on August 22, 2017. I have included more of the photographs from that shoot here, as well as… Read the full article
I spent the last two months driving back and forth between New York City and photographer Cheryl Machat Dorskind’s home in Westhampton, New York, shooting her in her studio and in her backyard, accompanying her on professional portrait shoots, a… Read the full article
I was fortunate to see the original production of Sam Shepard’s A Lie of the Mind at the Promenade Theatre in New York. When I first moved here, Shepard and David Mamet and Lanford Wilson were turning the NYC theatre… Read the full article
E.B. White’s Here is New York has long been my favorite book about the city in which I live. Published in 1949,Here is New York is thought of as more of an essay because of its short length, a mere 56… Read the full article
“I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude.” ― Henry David Thoreau, Walden I create in complete solitude. It is my way. It is authentic for me. It is how I play and remain in intimate… Read the full article
He was a beautiful creature, his black fur gleaming silken and silvery in northern New Mexico’s bright morning sun. His cappuccino-colored eyes could take me from sorrowful to serene in an instant. I was a freshman at St. John’s College… Read the full article
© 2025 Giselle Minoli
