Month: Dec 2021
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for Go-Dog-Go-Café: #TW
TRIGGER WARNING: #TW, This Post Relates to Suicide EVEN WITHOUT YOU I was too late.You’d already made your wayout of this world, beyond sins and intoa deep thicket. Darknesstrampledyour edges. Did you ever find somewhereto land – maybe a void beyond here to there. I remember you said, The moon’s obviouslya boat – a rocking…
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Nothing To Do With Anything
A Haibun: Nothing To Do With Anything Our town’s name has nothing to do with anything, like almost everything around here. Like Cowfold, they don’t fold cows. Or Handcross. Or Wychcross. Bear Green never had a bear. Or Pease Pottage, although that’s an exception, the soil clags-up like peas porridge when it rains. But we…
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For Twiglets #259: Cool Blue
All Those Blues There were tracesof blue all over her. Secretly blue.Iced blue. And on warm daysshe was chilled blue. Out-of-the-blueghostly blue. Even her shadowwas blue from cold. for Twiglet’s #259 Cool Blue. Needy Woman in Cold by Morteza Katouzian (Fair Use) WikiArt.
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The Winter People
THE WINTER PEOPLE This is winter’s astrophe. We’re stuck in a black and white fogbreathing thin air, breathing in a writer’s ache on blank sheets of white paper. It’s a silent semaphorelanguage that reducesthe sun to a small white stone. It’s…
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Published on Visual Verse Anthology
28 December: What a lovely way to close out this year’s submissions. Visual Verse Anthology published one of my ekphrastic poems today. Many thanks to their editorial staff for supporting my work. The poem may be read at A Stone Horse or Visual Verse Anthology.
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Falling Back on Miz Quickly: The Table
THE TABLE (in three parts) … that meal of polenta filled tamales, that New Years dinner in Colombia when I had flu, fever, and a gnashing headache. that meal I couldn’t face, couldn’t eat it. I was so embarrassed. apologetic. for three days, she prepared that meal. she looked so sad when I left the…
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The Man Who Sits on a Step at the Duck Pond
The Man Who Sits on a Step at the Duck Pond I’ve yet to see that man smile, a faceset like thick-sawn wood. He movesonly rarely so as to not appear dead. He says everything in this little townis one of two things – either alive ordead. Yet he’s never happier in life than when…
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Occhiolism: On Feeling Small
Occhiolism: On Feeling Small how many birds are in that song.is it one ortwo.does is takemorefor their waterlogged notesto break throughrain. how many shades of green makegrass.is it one ortwo.does it takemore for mossfor leaf-filtered green to reachthe colourblack. those birdswith their sibilant song,as if they’returningand turningthe pages of a book.I think birds see the…
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Two Elevenie Poems
Two Elevenie Poems SnowWindswept fieldsBlindsiding the skyYesterday in a snowbankBuried BuriedInto depthsWhite scrubbed whiteAlleys of bowing birchWait Poem form: Elevenie. Click thumbnail for constraints. © Misky 2021. Image is from Unsplash.
It's Still Life 