Category: AI Art
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3003: The Six Liturgy
Liturgy for the Paddle Wheel — where old and new collide I. The Animal of Iron and BreathIt came up the Rhône like a great beast learning to speak.Pistons for lungs, smoke for voice,paddle wheels striking the waterwith the rhythm of a heart that never tires. We stood on the bank and watched it approach,this…
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3003: Spring Journal
She Walks the Fair She walks the fair, a carousel’s brass musictugging at her sleeve, buys a daffodilfrom a man with kind hands, watches a child spinuntil the world goes loose. The scent of frying dough,cinnamon and sugar,the squeak of a wheel, a stranger’s laughthat sounds like her own. She carries a paper coneof warm…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Studies Tai Chi(Or: The Slow-Motion Pounce) The Old Woman finds himin the middle of the sitting room rug,moving with a slowness usually reservedfor glaciers or drying paint. One paw lifts,hovers,descends—as if placing it on the very heartbeat of the earth. “What,” she asks,“are you doing?” He does not look up.“Tai Chi walking.It is…
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2803: Journal of Thoughts
“…to find the smallest fragment and silence all around it until its voice fills your ears…” — M. I.The Smallest Fragment First, find the shard,a cracked bell,a half-buried word. Then build silence around it. Wait.Do not reach.Let it remember itself. Now listen.It will not shout. It will humnot with what was lost,with what remains true.…
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Ten Things of Thankful
I. Blackthorn is in full bloom, and that means spring — except the temperatures plummeted again into overnight single digits. I’m thankful that thermal-wear isn’t needed again — it’s all packed away. II. My crow, who’s not really my crow, left me what appears to be a chicken bone this morning. Be thankful it isn’t…
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2603: Spring Thoughts
Blackthorn wearsits snow as spring,each blossoma small, white still. And the scent …oh, the scent sharp as grief,and sweet as memoryriding the same windthat carries the news. Some images are a collaboration with Midjourney; all writing is my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
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2503: Spring Thoughts
Rain taps its small, persistent code: still here, still here, still here while the blanket pulls tighteraround myself. This is North returned asspring arrives on cold feet,learning to dance,and apologisingwith wet hands. Some images are a collaboration with Midjourney; all writing is my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
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2403: Six Sentence Story
Presqu’île: Where the Rivers Decide Brigid’s Diary, Episode 05: March 1834 Presqu’île narrowed beneath our feet like a blade, and the city balanced on it; north behind us, south ahead — and my thoughts still full of noises that would not stop. At the waterline a pale seam of silt and foam kept writing and…
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2303: The Liturgy
Liturgy for the Confluence(where two rivers meet and the world does not) I. The MeetingThey do not ask permission, these waters:the Saône, thick with silt,the Rhône, clear and urgent,driving south. At the narrow tip of landthey arrive still separate,dark and light,slow and swift, then lean togetherand go on. No treaty.No vow.Only force. II. The SurfaceFrom…
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2303: Spring Thoughts
The light turned blade-sharpagainst winter’s grey throat.Low sun,warm enoughfor blessing hanging sheets. Tonight we’ll sleep like linen,wind-wrung and sweet. Some images are a collaboration with Midjourney; all writing is my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
It's Still Life 