Category: AI Art
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Ten Things of Thankful
Not a stellar week: started off with a tummy virus that wore me to the bone. A few days of that, and then it was gone. Then the rain and wind. A few days, and then it was also gone. So here’s this week’s 10 things for which I’m thankful, and trust me, it required…
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1206: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: The Heatwave The neighbours assemble on Facebook.That house with no lawnmower.Number 41, someone says,with the dog.That barks. Dogs bark,another says. I’d like to complainabout feral cats — that comment isanonymous. The pink peonies are as big a soup bowls. Foxgloves toweringbeneath the apple trees. He sits with one leg crossed,scrolling Facebook,reading me…
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1106: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: A Waiting Wind scrubbing curry stainsfrom the kitchen sink, I remembered Flensburg. we stayed a week —waiting for wind. books.walks.the Baltic. Funny, how many thingsin lifewon’t move until something invisiblearrives. Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a starting point and follow wherever attention leads. It’s — go for a walk…
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1006: dVerse Unpunctuated
Sad Winter Skin When I was youngI wanted a yellow bedroom I wanted sunny We boastedof evergreenand a climate wetterthan a bath Dad painted although he was mostlya postman and an artist but he didn’t do bedroomsSo mum painted it washable mattedripped from the tin Fresh Egg Yolk I liked naming paint colours It’s too…
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1006: Journal of Thoughts
A Friend: Our Forty Year Stitch Forty years. We have worn groovesinto each other’s silences. Whole conversationsonce livedbetween cigarettes,coffee cups,the long turningof daylight. Now he slipstoward somewhere else, then surfaces againat the sound of my voice. I do not reachto hold him here. I sit beside the bed,straighten the blanket,pass him water. Outside,someone closes a…
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0906: Journal of Thoughts
The Hand Is Enough A hand of sweet scents.A posy.Pearly pink. Silly girl,you’re dreaming. The hand is enough. A kindnesswithout witness. A giftwithout debt — and she rolled overand dreamtshe wasasleep. Written for What Do You See #344. Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
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0906: Brigid’s Diary – A Six
Brigid’s Diary: Part 12.2, Arles, Spring 1836 Under the Floorboard The shouting started next door: boots on stairs, a man’s voice like a stomp, the scrape of furniture across wood, and the thin-pitched sound of children when they learn the house is not theirs. I tasted blood where I’d bitten my lip without noticing, salt…
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0806: The Liturgy
Brigid’s Diary: Part 12.2, “Liturgy for the Loose Floorboard”(Arles, 1836: where rebellion survives by passing from hand to hand) I. The Sound of ArrivalIt begins next door,the shouting,the boots on stairs,a man’s voice heavyas the stomp of his feet. Furniture dragged across wood floors.Children cryingbecause strangers have enteredtheir small kingdom of wallsand will not explain…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and Cat-Alchemy the cat stands on its hind legs at dawn,paws deep in the flour bin,whisking chaos into a sort-of roux, “observe,” it intones,as three eggshells levitateand the toaster hums. the old woman watches,arms crossed,coffee steaming a fog:“that’s not how physics works,” she says. the cat flicks its tail,a spatula, somehow —and…
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0606: Everywhere Poems
30 May: An Everywhere Poem: On Paper The postman arrives withmore origami,shopping lists, and a thousand other usesfor junk mail. Mum saved grocery bagsback before everything went plastic, then paper again. We wrapped parcels in them. No sticky tape. Only string. The paper reused. Life is made of reused words. To crumple,to fold,to toss aside.…
It's Still Life 