A. F. Litt

Photographer, writer, filmmaker, wandering lost soul...

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Slough
8 days ago
The foundations under the house are three feet tall. A cobbled path leads into a chain link fence, crawling with blackberry vines. I built a swing set there and I checked the bolts, every weekend, aft...
Something Lost
a month ago
By December, I have to tell my boys, the fish are gone. Under the pioneer bridge, the falls still fall but the native platforms hang from once burning rock over churning water empty. It is cold now an...
Bedtime Prayer
a month ago
Slipped words in the night. Not a punched gut but steely all over like a hangover, and it comes with a hangover. Lapses and glances left behind, parables and my ears too young until now, until too lat...
Lines
a month ago
Like the numbered dots in your old Wonder Woman activity book, Like the re-appearance of your old ‘70s chic; New, then old, then new again… The Picture Was Always There, waiting for the effort of New ...
Antarctic Whispers
a month ago
On the right side of Everything… A sunrise, a sunset… Direction means nothing As we bathe in the confused glow Of first or last light. We remain undistracted By the Glimmer, Remaining weary of promise...
Moonrise
2 months ago
The sun paints the sky as it nods, out of sight, into the sea and the moon rises, out of sight, so high above, Emerging only with the dark. Slowly the moon pushes through the twilight, climbing over T...