The golden brown dog, Lies on the golden brown floor, Not just blending in, But becoming one, With the transitional path, Of the comings and goings, Of civilization around him. He takes comfort, In the close proximity, Of a black bicycle, And the liberation, Its wheels might bring, To otherwise, More reliably, Stationary, Bodies. He hears, Its clangorous bell, As a beckoning of freedom, To his golden brown form, Lying there, Fur gently bristling, From a light window breeze, Like a wheat field, Bending, Helplessly, To the whims of the wind.
Nicholas Yandell is a composer, who sometimes creates with words instead of sound. In those cases, he usually ends up with fiction and occasionally poetry. He also paints and draws, and often all these activities become combined, because they’re really not all that different from each other, and it’s all just art right?
When not working on creative projects, Nick works as a bookseller at Powell’s Books in Portland, Oregon, where he enjoys being surrounded by a wealth of knowledge, as well as working and interacting with creatively stimulating people. He has a website where he displays his creations; it’s nicholasyandell.com. Check it out!