Month: Jun 2026
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3006: Brigid’s Diary – Two Sixes
Part 15 & 16: 1842, Cagnes-sur-Mer, France (Brigid’s Diary, Winter: 1842: one year on) Where is Felreil?That’s what I want to know. Where is he in his black frock coat, moving as if Boreas lived in its pockets, striding streets and alleys in long English-blackened boots, as though Provence’s glossy night had always been part…
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3006: The Liturgy
Liturgy for His Return, Cagnes-sur-Mer (Summer 1842 — Where the road remembers him) I. The Hill That Has Grown SteeperI found the hill steeper than I remembered,or else I had brought backless of myself than I meant to. This is what a year does.This is what the navy does.This is what it meansto be carried…
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2906: Six Sentence Story
Brigid and Felreil Arrive in Room 215 Brigid and Felreil came through the hidden closet of Room 215 as though stepping between centuries were merely a poor plan carried out with good manners, and Felreil, without visible surprise, laid his French Imperial Navy-cut coat across a time-aged leather wing-back chair with the air of a…
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2906: The Liturgy
Liturgy for the Year of His Absence(Cagnes-sur-Mer, Winter 1842 — Waiting Becomes a Way of Life) I. The Question That Never Leaves Where is Felreil? Not a question of geography.Not a question of distance.A question of existence:whether the world still holds him,whether the shadows have released him,whether he is still stridingin his English-blackened bootsthrough streets…
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2906: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: San Francisco Earthquake 1989World Series.Baseball.Late afternoon. It starts with the soundof a heavy lorrydriving by. Lorries never droveon our little narrow lane. Eucalyptus hanging low.Potholed dusty track.Watch for falling rock. Then waves.In the pool. Washed upand over the lawn. The birdsstopped singing. A friend refusedto go backinto her house. Cooked outside.Bathed outside.She…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Great Digging Mystery(Or: A Cane Corso’s Underground Ambitions) The cat sits on the fence post,high, safe,watching Crymych,the Italian mastiff with the Welsh name,dig a hole in his garden.Deep.Determined.Earth flying like brown bag confetti. The Old Woman appears with her tea.“What’s he doing?” The cat doesn’t look away.“That, Old Woman,is the question of the hour.Is…
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2706: Journal of SenHai (updated)
Heatwave Poetry Senryu each hill wears a hushas if the cold remembersa lullaby’s name Haiku Snow piles in the dawn shadows shift, a long, low hum;world pauses, hearing … and because my ink refuses to put a lid on it … so to speak … I. snow keeps no footprintsuntil someone needs a path II.…
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2706: dVerse Ars Poetica
Ars Poetica: The Yew This is a tree.But this is not about the tree,and it’s not about that summer,or the forest behind our house,or the Japanese maplethat Dad naileda birdhouse on. Nails.Crucified.Like Jesus. I called itthe Jesus Treeafter that. And it’s not aboutthe huckleberriesI ate before chasingsomething. Something — I can’t recall what. Always runningbeneath…
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2606: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: The One Busted for Drugs Pollen is thick as midgeson a loch, a leaf blowerand the windscreenis clear. Bless their obnoxious noise. Coupon in my pocket. Spend £60,get £20 off.£60 is easy. Meat, more meatand maybe a chicken. Pallets in the aisle. Shopping trolleys stop,turn,batter one another. No milk.No lettuce.No beans.Green cabbage…
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2506: A Thursday Door
Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the way to share my love of doors — of all sorts. I’ve trawled through my photos and found a few to share. Bushboy (Brian Dodd) also shares photos of doors from his his journeys. ©Misky 2022-2026 Shared on X #amwriting @bushboywhotweet and @DAntion
It's Still Life 