Monica Multer

Come sit with me in the dark Let me introduce you A first acquaintance That quickly becomes A long drawn out partnership With a parasite A monkey you can’t Seem to get off your back Sit me with Stand with me Cry with me Laugh with me In darkness This is a whole new world Where Hell Is only Hell No heaven behind Closed off gates And a smiling face Is the one you must beware Shake hands Politely speak to one another Soft drums beat near by Where children giggle Pointing at you Staring at you With eyes to big And too dark Sitting here Does it make you nervous You seem nervous You shouldn’t be This is home Welcome back son The lost child Long returned home We’ve been waiting Sighing out each breath Into darkness Where words fall From mouths So uncouth and unforgiving An ugly world full of beauty A contradictory that has No limitations or boundaries Where no ends meet The path just ends From the corners You are watched Stalked day and night By what You may never know Every time the lights go out You know I am waiting Waiting just for you I have lingered on the outside Watching from the sidelines But not for long So come sit with me In the dark Where secrets are told And lies are whispered And eyes are always looking Welcome home Make sure to shut the door Behind you tight Don’t let the darkness out

I think it is tragically cute when children have mullets. Either that child’s hair just grew in strangely, which I can emphasize with because that was my case as well. (I had a bowl-shaped cut for the longest time because my hair would not grow, and yes I looked like a boy). Or else for some demented reason, the parents thought it would be adorable if their child had a mullet. The answer to that is no, even though children can pull off a mullet it is ill-advised. It is hard not to laugh when you see a kid with a mullet, but this child was adorable and laughable. ...

I find you dull and inconsistent You find me aloof and contrived We find each other irritated By one another We see each other More often than we both please Catching each others eyes As we turn around corners Trying to avoid eye contact When it is inevitable We always find ourselves Face to face with the things we hate The things we fear and wish never would be But yet here they are Opposites of nothing Similar in absence Meaningless in all I find you heartbreaking You find me despairing Yet we are the same The face in the mirror You wish you couldn’t see The devil on your shoulder Who told you who to be You are my adversary Yet you are me But every day I realize Too long I have been my own enemy

Winter is waiting Like an old hospital room White and clean Yet so foreboding They will wash the walls Of my presence Scrub away Until there is nothing left of me Strip down my pictures Replace them with plaster A life cast of me Molded too tight Until I cannot breathe Suffocating and gasping for air Inside a white washed room Sterilized of life Where dolls sit With clairvoyant glassy eyes Of Ovid’s butterfly Fluttering helplessly Settling down In a flourish of color Only to die slowly Caught in the grip Of Winter’s cold fist Such an absence Such a silence It deafens me Echoing off white walls The screams of the plastered casts Of those who came before me Faces protruding like the gates of hell Leaving me too blind to see Staring blankly At the horror before me I wonder why I am here Why I wound up In this white washed room Suffocating in a prison With no windows No sound Except the noise of madness And the sound Of a rotting brain As the butterfly takes its last gasps You left me here To slowly decay I watch the butterfly Curl, wither, and deform From the beauty it had been Watching my fate Unfurl before me With a merciless slowness I am waiting now For the white to capture me To whisk me away Into some fairytale dream A reprieve of this white washed room But the butterfly’s ashes Lay around me Staining my palms It will never leave me Winter is here With its worn cold hands I refuse to go with you But I cannot stay Take me with you butterfly For where I am going I hoped I would never be See you on the other side Of this damned eternity For now I will hope for a better destiny And try to avoid the inevitable By hiding behind the mask Of a butterfly’s face In plain sight A flourish of color in a white room Waiting for fate to find me

It seems as if all of the most childish and supposedly innocent things are the most twisted. One of the most twisted is the kids game Twister. It seems so innocent, but it actually is a perverse and awkward game unlike any other. Hidden under the guise of childhood innocence, it is deviously deceptive in its twisted ways. Case and point, need I say more? Yes, I do. The main problem about this game is it’s total lack of boundary space. There is no such thing as personal space in this game, with arms and legs crossing and criss-crossing across numerous people. Nothing is sacred. ...

At Natural Bridges State Park in California there is a spectacular little lagoon that looks like the ground it is so filled with mosses. The entire water is green and looks solid enough to walk on even though there are ducks swimming in it. Life seems to spring from it, with long stretching reeds that reach outward like arms and old logs reposing in the green water. There is something about this green lagoon that is eerie and beautiful, maybe it is the illusion, or maybe it is just the presence of life all around. I hope to go back very soon and see it again.

Many people when they see my creeper photos either think it is totally strange or very interesting. One of the questions I get most often is what if they see you taking the picture? For most people, I take every possible precaution to make sure they don’t see. If they do see me there is a special tactic I imploy to sooth their suspicion. If you notice you have been spotted, don’t run away in fear of being called out. Most people will not call you out, so keep it cool and they will just give you a weird look then walk away. People are not very confrontational and if you keep it cool nothing will happen. Most people assume they are being paranoid and don’t do anything about it. Occasionally though, they will call you out. So if a person seems a little peeved here is my strategy. Still, do not run away. Stay put and then put your camera up again like you are going to take another photo and wait till the are out of the frame and take a new photo. Make a real spectacle of what you are doing and make it as apparent as possible that your intent for that picture was not the person. Once they see you do this, they will not do anything about it because they assume that you were taking a picture of what is behind them and they just happen to be in the shot. They never think they they are the shot. So, disaster averted and the world does not end. If those don’t work, then run. However, with children I let them see that I am taking their picture. Like this little girl, children make some of the most amazing eye contact with strangers and in that moment of eye contact is a connection like you are peering into their life. Their eyes, like this little girls beautiful blue eyes, become a window into who they are. Even though I will never know who these kids become, for just a single moment it feels like I do know. ...

This picture is at Pictured Rocks National Park in Northern Michigan. In a place of such pristine beauty, were the sandstone rock walls stand like monoliths looming over Lake Superior, there is wonder in everything. Most people would expect a picture of these cliffs, but my favorite shot when I was there, was not of the towering monoliths or the emerald green waters, but of the forest hidden behind it all. People will tell you where to find the most beautiful sights in places like this, but the real beauty is found in the unspoken places. Down the little untreaded paths were no ranger or tour guide will lead you. It is up to you to discover it and keep the little wonder a secret in your heart. Find your own beauty, mine lies in the forest. Where the trees are white as snow and the ground is red with fallen leaves and pines. This is were I find beauty, in the unsuspected place.

Crossing names out of address books After showers patter on a closed coffin Just a passing moment gone Putting down the pencil To look at the rain as it shifts Dancing in front of the window As the drops send ripples outward Pirouetting hand in hand with the grass as each petal bends slightly under the weight The water pulling its face down like a tear drop The face turned upward catches the rain Between the lines in your face Catching in the corner of your lips As a smile sneaks its way to your face The rain brushes your face With the tenderness of a lovers embrace Sliding down cheeks so the tears don’t show You face the sky alone With forgotten names rolling off of you Falling into muddied puddles Never to be recovered, never to be remembered Sifting into the soil, becoming part of the earth Like seeds weaving into the ground Returning home from life To the warm embrace of the world’s womb Wrapped in a veil of the earth’s tears From the earth but not of the earth Not yet, for now you rest among the tulips A shimmering rain drop Sending ripples into dreams Into the minds of those who never knew you Dancing with the grass I still miss you I will find you in the tulips in the earths embrace There your name will be written again Not in a book but in stone