Don Snyder, Photographer
by Gerard Malanga
What then of the pictures he left behind in his sleep
the mounds of tabloids bundled and yellowed
the looseleaf binders falling out at the seams
from wear & tear, from decrepit old age
the soft pathways hardened and winding their way
like a lost serpent through the one – bedroom flat
till the bathroom became verboten and fuzzy.
What then of the pictures consigned back to the hot, airless days
the flora and fauna, the blue jays
marauding, the gnarls and the crags, the land of the lost ?