Simmering on air on a mother duck taking her babies under her wings to rest as out in the great storm something shrieks . . . not your standard wind shriek but a different kind . . . something coming up from deep under the waves straight out of grandmama’s stories . . . eyes like saucers but no one believing her . . . no . . . surely nothing with a head that bobs with seaweed hair and sea urchins for eyes and a starfish for a mouth could rise to its briny feet and walk right out of the water tossing wind turbines and offshore oil rigs as she comes . . . or could she . . .
My fall series post for today over on my Substack with many images including these American mausoleums that I found over on Instagram last year I think it was.
