Category: AI Art
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0203: Journal of Thoughts
All Clear Something fell.Not from the sky,from inside the architecture of me.A dark shade pulled,a sudden subtraction.I ducked.Who wouldn’t duckwhen the world suddenly lacksthe corner where you keep your name? They looked.They said: trick.Just a trick.As if the body playing haunted houseis somehow less a ghost. I am not blind.But I have seen,for one long,…
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0203: The Looms Liturgy
Liturgy for the Looms That Never Stop(Lyon, 1834, where silk costs more than children) I. The Sound That Never EndsIt begins before dawn and continues after.The clack clack clack of wooden shuttlesthrowing thread, catching thread,weaving fabric that will never warmthe hands that made it. All day. All night. Every day.The looms do not rest.They cannot…
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #8
8 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Questions the Daffodil (A Floral Inquiry) The cat sits in the morning sun,one paw delicately touching a yellow petalas if it might bite back. “Daffodils,” he enunciates,slowly,testing the word like a suspicious piece of chicken, “Who decided?Who looked at this…yellow trumpet on a twig and thought,‘Yes. Daffodil. Good name.’ Certainly not a cat.A…
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #7
7 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #6
6 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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2602: MicroDosing 100 µg
In the forest’s throatthe oldest voice is root-deep.Slow.Patiently churning. It speaks in a languageof decayand renewal.Unhurriedand whispering —what we never thought to hear. Its green voice, thinand light, softlysusurrusleaf against leaf,tiny tonguesdebatingthe wind’s direction. It quickens —a shrew’s panicked prayer,a beetle’s silent counting,an owl’s velveteen questionsthat need no answer. And holding it all,a voice that…
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2602: Ten Things of Thankful
1) I am thankful that when he woke in the middle of the night, hungry, and prepared an apple—leaving the core and knife on the kitchen countertop overnight—that it was an apple rather than ice cream. 2) Never turn your back on the dead. That orchid that I declared dead a few weeks ago, is…
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #5
5 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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2402: Brigid’s Diary – A Six
Part 3, Lyon, December 1834 Cathédrale Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Lyon The Diligence carriage delivered us to Lyon in pieces, every rut a verdict, every mile a lesson in endurance. But we had arrived, met with December’s Festival of Lights, the Rhône’s river-stink, and brightness laid over hunger like Lyon’s silk over a bruise. Felreil and I…
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