Category: AI Art
-
2208: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem Tuesday:wind rushed the sparks. a snap,and combustionof sun-baked grass. it’s the scent of charreddried herbs.smoke bittingbright, and mineral dry. it’s to swallow upa dusty road —it’s a ghost coughlingering in the throat. sirenspluck at the airin two-tones. Friday:the fire has gonebefore I find it. only its mouthremains — black grass,the bitter greenof…
-
2107: Everywhere Poems
The Dry Cleaners that Aren’t Anymore windows open,houses sharing conversation. heat rising,tyres on pavement, a steady whineof a vacuum cleaner — somewhere. “Bought pizza at the dry cleaners. You know, the one busted for drugs years ago,” says my neighbour, “ten minutes they claimed, turned out to be an hour — good pizza though.” “Opening…
-
2008: Everywhere Poems
The Axe in the Cedar Block Dad chopped woodevery day,until he couldn’t. One day,he just walked awayfrom his axe. Left it in a block of cedar, sunk deeperthan his tremor. And there it stayed.For years. None of us strong enoughto free it. Eventuallythe blade rusted,angry-red, and the wooden handle fell off. Everywhere Poems don’t have…
-
Ten Things of Thankful
1 and 2: Thankful that a few squash grew large enough to make Swedish-style (although Peder will say they’re Danish-style) pickles. These squash should be the size of a man’s shoe, but the heat and drought have reduced their size by half. I am thankful for what the summer gave us, and I’ll kick myself…
-
1908: A Rum Dream Sestina
A Rum Dream Sestina The tide revealed more beachthan I’d ever seen. Dark, brimmingwaves drinking in sand, and a blackmood of clouds shrouding tearsand chunks of sky. Gusts takingto air our towels. Umbrellas. We two women clamped our knuckled twohands on our straw hats. The beachemptied. Holiday-makers ran, takingshelter in huts roofed with straw brims.A…
-
1808: Dead Men Don’t Drown
Dead Men Don’t Drown: #3 (catch-up with all episodes here) Episode #3 The charity van arrives just after ten, driven by a narrow man with a nose sharp enough to open letters and eyes that know the profitable function of grief before I have finished carrying the boxes to the gate. He lifts the flaps…
-
1708: Everywhere Poems
todayhe carries her suitcases, pots and pans,towels,bedlinen, across the thresholdof a university room. I remembercarrying his. the old exchange.what we carry in,what we carry away. on the drive homeI pulled off the highway, stopped the car. some roads are without our knowing.but not this one. todayI send him a text. you’re in my heart,my darling…
-
1708: The Liturgy
Episode 3 — Liturgy for the Charity Van(for those who sort the belongings of the dead) I. The Van at the Door The charity van pulls up.The driver is kind but level,practised in the art of receivingwhat the living can no longer hold. Fenella watches him load the boxes,each one containing a fragmentof her grandmother’s…
-
The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Teaches Poker(A Lesson in Literal Interpretations) The Old Woman lays the tools on the table: “Right,” she says,“The book said ‘Poker’is a game of fire and nerve.” The cat stares.Its expression suggeststhis may bethe stupidest momentin human history. “You poke the fire,” she explains,“and then I will poke it.We see who flinches…
-
1608: The Colour of Elsewhere
The Colour of Elsewhere — Poems from the Periphery South Again — V — 25 July: A Lay-by at Denmark’s Border A Log to Sit On I’d have been happyliving here. He agrees. Though you’d be happierin Sweden,he says. He reads melike a doctorwalkinga step behind. All I needis a forest. A pebble beach.A log…
It's Still Life 