Category: AI Art
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17 July: Sonnet to a River
Songs the River Sings (A Sonnet to River Arun) The boat was small, the river calm—no storm to blame, no wrathful psalm. Just wood grown tired of being wood,just water doing what water should. Eleven men (their hands darkwith earth-turned songs), eight women(keepers of loom and flaxen thread),now seamstresses of this riverbed. May mountains spill…
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17 July: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: 3. Thankful for ice cream when the temperature at 9:30PM is still 32C. Have mercy — salted caramel ice cream! 3. Thankful that not all the greenhouse tomatoes have “white core“. It’s caused by extreme temperatures — which we’ve had (well, not as extreme as Spain, or Southern France, or Greece…
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16 July: A Six – The Book of 27
14 of 27: Driftspire – a Colour once felt, not seen—The Joy of Being Completely Unknown 16 July – Lindisfarne: Holy Island, Northumberland – low tide, salt breath, sheep for company PART 1: (6 Sentences) 14 of 27 — Driftspire: The Joy of Being Completely Unknown The North Sea sleeps at low tide, and Brigid…
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15 July: Driftspire – The Liturgy
14 of 27 Driftspire – The Poem – The joy of being completely unknown 14 of 27 – The Liturgy of Driftspire I. The UnbuttoningNo name.No story.Just the hushof fog dissolving the edges of memory. Here, you shrug off the coat of who you wereand let it pool at your feet—a puddle of forgotten pronouns.Step…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
A Trilogy of Feline Digital Disasters (Because cats—love chaos) I. TUTORIAL HELLScene: The cat is perched in front of a laptop, watching “Crunchy Tuna Unboxing” videos. CAT (squinting) “This is research.”OLD WOMAN “It’s been six hours.”CAT “Silence, woman. I’m cultivating my aesthetic.” (Off-screen, the crow livestreams the whole affair.) CROW (voiceover)“Day 1: ‘Artist’ has forgotten…
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11 July: Ten Things of Thankful
In absolutely no numerical order: II. A very long, quiet walk in the forest with John, my youngest son, who’s visiting until Monday, and then back home to Bogotá. He knows the value of listening through silence. It’s possibly the most valuable lesson he learned from me. Well, that — and I taught him to…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and Pandora’s Cat (part 1) An ancient leather-bound box arrives — Pandora’s scrawled across the lid in ink. Inside: a tiny meow. Whiskers twitch, a kitten, ink-black, curled around hope as if a secret, and the old woman laughs, lifts it — all warm, trembling — and then the hissing begins. From…
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9 July: A Six Sentence Story
13 of 27 – Stillrift: Peace Earned from Ruin Let It Become Weather It didn’t feel like peace when it came—just the absence of argument, like a room forgetting your name. That night, Felreil appeared as a crow on the footboard of Brigid’s bed, dropping black stones onto her feet—each one etched with a word…
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7 July: Stillrift – The Liturgy
13 of 27: Stillrift — The Liturgy Poem: Peace Earned from Ruin Let It Become Weather I. The ArrivalNo trumpet. No epiphany.Just the click of a lock after the last word leaves—a silence so thick it tastes like blindness,as dust settles into somethinglike horizon.The wound scabs.Stillrift arrives when the itch fadesinto the patience of scars.…
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5 July: Morning on the Lake
Morning on the Lake (memories from a child’s diary) The boat’s nose sniffs at sunrise—wet-bright and sweet, chasingits tail across a rising hush, and the oars dip and grin,spilling silver over minnowsthat taste of pepper and paper. I am queen of this nowhere kingdom.I am Amphitrite of dragonfly fleets.My hair is plaited in ropes of…
It's Still Life 