Category: AI Art
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10.01: Journal of Thoughts
The Thimble and the Hummingbird I. The Inheritance of Absence I keep few things.A silver thimble, a rocking chair,and a preference for memory over monument.Objects shed their stories like birch bark,curling inward, fragile, ghost-scripted.But the thimble holds the shape of her fingerprint,the chair holds the curve of her spine,and I —I hold the space between.…
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09.01: Csárdás
Csárdás — (myth in the bones, fire in the blood) It begins with a single note.Thin. Aching.A thread of winter smokeunraveling from a fiddle. The room stills.Dust rises like memory.Somewhere in that soundis a field at dusk,an empty chair,a story your grandmother once whisperedwhen she thought you were asleep. But then —the pulse strikes. The…
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0801: Ten Things of Thankful
I’m back home after a glorious holiday with family. I am thankful to have seen a Savannah Hawk land a few metres away from me (in Anapoima Colombia). Its wingspan was so large that when it took flight, I felt the pressure of the air under its wings. To see the night sky in all…
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0701: A Six Sentence Story
Clinging to Small Solid Facts in Six Sentences We talk about Venezuela, as if naming it might steady the water, and I drift in the jacuzzi like a bubble, briefly convinced of my own shape. I mention that Einstein had flat feet — facts don’t ask questions because saying something solid feels like ballast against…
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05.01: A Liturgy for a Bubble
A Liturgy for the Bubble in a Current Once upon a time We gathered at water’s edge,in a jacuzzi between the spokenand the dissolved. We knew when a metaphor was not a metaphor,but a bubble wearing a skin of air, and we spoke to the Brief Republic,the Spinning Borders,the diamond thinning to memory.We called it…
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0401: A Heightened Pass Through the Current
We’re talking Venezuela;it’s coup dressed up as civics,steam lifting words from our mouths like ghoststhat won’t vote,and I am a bubble in the jacuzzi,a brief republic of air, spinning its borders open and shut. “Wasn’t it flat feet that spared Einstein the uniform,” I say, and facts being facts, statements pretending not to ask permission,…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
THE CAT’S TEMPORAL PROTEST(Or: Why Fix What Isn’t Broken) The Old Woman is hanging a new calendar.A gift from the crow.Who stole it. January glows with a photo of a serene garden. The cat watches,tail-tip flicking with skepticism.“Explain,” he says,“the need for a new year.The old one was functional.It had sunbeams.It had sardines.It had that…
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01.01: Ten Things of Thankful
I am still in Colombia, and in the loving arms of my two grandchildren and family. We left Bogotá the day after Christmas for Anapoima, which is a much lower altitude at 710 meters (2,329 feet). We’re in the mystical Magdalena River Valley. I’m thankful to be in Colombia: Back home in Sussex it’s -6℃.…
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31.12: To You All
Happy New Year and my very best wishes to you all. — Marilyn (Misky) 🜄 Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI. Poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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The Old Woman With No Cat
THE CAT’S HEAVENLY MISTAKE (Or: A Pine-Scented Epiphany) He wakes beneath the tree. A fortress of fir and glitter,dazzled by fairy lightsthat wink like trapped stars.Above him,an angel glows serenely,her gaze fixed somewherebetween wonder and Woolworth’s. “Ah,” he breathes,tail-tip twitching in awe.“So this is the end.I knew I was too goodfor this mortal realm.” He…
It's Still Life 