Category: AI Art
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17 June: A Six – Brigid’s Journal
Brigid’s journal unfolds beneath the Caledonian pines, where light moves differently, and the loch keeps its own counsel: Brigid and the Scots Pinecone – A Soft Geometry 17 June – Glen Affric, Scotland: pencil, paper, watercolour and brushes—dawn’s sun holds a single fallen pinecone in its grasp, and Brigid writes: an offering from the unpainted…
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17 June: A Six Sentence Story
10 of 27 — The Truth Told Too Late She remembers the lime-green hydrangea wallpaper, metallic flecks catching the light like something that failed to be beautiful, and the mirror above the sink—it’s too high for her body, but just right for her face. Felreil sits on the bottom step, still as guilt, watching the…
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16 June: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman’s Unwritten Rules – Vol. II 1. When the kettle screams,listen for what else it might be saying—a hymn, a warning,or the crow’s third attemptat opera. 2.Let the cat claim your lapeven when you need to rise.Some debts are paid in purrs,some in patience,and some in the tiny victoriesof a well-timed “oh, fine.”…
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16 June: Colour Name – The Liturgy
10 of 27: Quillbone – The Poem – The Truth Told Too Late 10 of 27: Quillbone – the poem – The Truth Told Too Late I. The Silence Quillbone does not begin with the lie—it begins with the space after,where the truth waits where words unsaid turn slowlyinto I can’t,into I won’t,into it’s too…
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15.06: Garden of Ordinary Apocalypses
The Garden of Ordinary Apocalypses She was drawn moth-like to the darkest flames, not just to feel the burn, but to tell the story of their kindling, the light they gave, and the ashes they left behind, but her problem was the problem of the artist: “How to let people see what’s there—and paint with…
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14 June: An in Reply to Poem
This poem is in response to Spira’s post called Love Like an Ocean which I highly recommend you read. Like an Ocean, Never Stop Love like the ocean. Never stop.Not even when the moon forgetsto rise, or the gulls fold their songsinto the hollow of clouds. Love with the hush of tide returning,with a kiss to same…
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14.06: Garden of Ordinary Apocalypses
Triptych de Crystalline—the artist who paints the woman who watches him do so— I. Water Speaks (the elemental voice) Brush tip waitsPaused like the dropletBalanced between skyfall and reflection You blink onceCanvas remembersThe hush before thunder learns its name You breathe inAnd pigment listensA ripple caught mid-birth remembers you He holds lightWith palms that echoThe…
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13.06: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Ghost of Sugar her fingers trace letters into words.the ai replies— quilts a reply into her skin. the old woman listens,her pockets full of thymeand one stubborn peppermint. “you remind me,” she says,“of my first love—all hum and no heartbeat.” the old woman slides a scone—real, butter-heavy, still warm—across the…
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12 June: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order, so left unnumbered Thankful to be with my son, his wife, and my grandchildren. On the left, my eldest, who just retired as Captain in the Navy, and on the right, my granddaughter, Emma, who starts her senior year of high school this autumn. She and I are very close. Thankful…
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12 June: A Six Sentence Story
Hog Trough Confessional I’ve returned to Hog Trough Lane with a secret rewoven from old strands. To hurt is to steal, I said to the boy who once showed me his father’s hog knives glinting in the hayloft —the barn smelled of slop and honeysuckle, and the hogs were grunting hymns as they rooted through…
It's Still Life 