It's Still Life

Periphery

The world rarely arrives whole.
A horn.
Tyres on wet tarmac.
A crow.
Heat lifting from stone.
The rest,
we quietly build.

Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a starting point and follow wherever attention leads. It’s — go for a walk and see where you end up.

Some images created with Midjourney, some are not; all writing is my own work.©Misky 2006-2026.