I gave up on organized religion many years ago. I was thirteen at the time and became disillusioned with my church because the elders were unwilling to help me reconcile the concepts of predestination and free will. “You must have faith,” was the answer I got. In what? Confusion? Since that time, I have considered myself to be an agnostic rather than an atheist. Why? When asked that question, I generally reply with something suitably vague like, “Well, it’s impossible to know for sure if god exists.” The truth of the matter is much simpler. I still talk to god.
Author: Karen Lee Kleis
When I was a child, there was a bookshelf in our living room and on that shelf lived a copy of Edward Fitzgerald’s translation of The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayam. I don’t remember when I first delved into this book. I know I was still in grade school and I do remember that my initial attraction was to the lovely, colorful illustrations that accompanied the text. It was a handsome book indeed — hardbound with its own slipcase, pages smooth to the touch, text printed in some kind of fancy font that was almost as pretty as the pictures. Continue reading “Book Tales: Poetry Remembered”
My neighbor, Lee, came to my front door one afternoon. He was holding out his hand for me to see something. The something turned out to be a 
very well preserved Cuban tree frog skeleton. Take the time to do a little research on the Cuban tree frog and you will discover that it is one of Florida’s many invasive species. You will also discover that Florida’s wildlife experts recommend euthanizing these frogs when they have been properly identified. Why? Because the Cuban tree frog is classified as an invasive, exotic species that represents a danger to native fauna. While I was photographing this cool little skeleton, I got to thinking about what we mean when we talk about invasive vs. native species. Turns out it’s not exactly a crystal clear distinction. Continue reading “The Nature of Nature: Invasion!”
This is a sample of recent black and white photo art created using my original photographs. Enjoy!
If you’d like to see more, please visit my Flickr photostream: https://www.flickr.com/photos/hollykl/
In breaking news, we are sad to report that the Stick Man has died. Police have not yet issued a formal statement but our sources tell us that he was the victim of a hit and run accident. The perpetrator has yet to be identified. Continue reading “Death of the Stick Man”
The weeds are coming back.
They stand defiant in the grass with blooms
like tiny pastel flags.
They push their way through
mulch and fence, unfurling leaves
as if to taunt.
They wind and grasp and climb their way
to light and life. Continue reading “Weeds”
In the dim light at dawn, a hawk takes flight,
skimming the silken surface of a rain-soaked stream.
As the air stirs and jogs the dangling branches,
cast off leaves are launched, drifting
and gliding on a journey downstream. Continue reading “Tethered Imagination”
Once Upon a Time
“Trailer trash!” It’s what my mother used to say. People who spit on the sidewalk or threw trash out car windows were subject to such immediate judgment. So were those who neglected to say “Sir” and “Ma’am”. And those who talked loudly in the cinema. As well as those so crass as to mop up runny egg yolks with toast while eating in a public place. Continue reading “Trailer Trash”
Once there was a place where harmony reigned and everyone lived in peace. The hares were at peace with the hounds, the bears with the salmon, the egrets with the fish and so on. No one was hungry because there was no need to eat. No one fought because there was room for all to live comfortably. No one ruled because rules were unnecessary. All lived a peaceful existence without the need to know if what they felt was happiness or not. Continue reading “A Bit of Orange”
“You’re old! You’re not supposed to be old.”
The voice came from somewhere above me, its tone plaintive and confused. I was on my back in the grass. Wet grass at that, though I had no idea whether the moisture was from dew or a recent watering. In truth, I had no idea where I was. I slowly opened my eyes, brushing the dirt away from my lids as I did so. Continue reading “Revenant Town, Part 1”
Karen Lee Kleis 