Category: AI Art
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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…
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11 June: An Ode to Dawn
An Ode to Dawn (Rewritten with Salt & Ether) The sun licks its copper fingers,turns eyelids into gilded scripture—awake, awake, awake—each blink a hexagainst night’s failed coup. Breath arrives—unpaid, unblessed—thoughts chime like cathedral glassin the cage of maybe,where silence brewsin chamomile steambeside a tarot spread of dreamsleft face-down. And love?Love is the unasked-forsecond spoon of…
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10 June: A Six Sentence Story
To Hurt is to Steal The clinic lights hum —guilty, guilty as saints in hiding. The nurse peels back the bandage …to heal is to steal, you whisper it—not to her, but to the wound’s ruby grin, a slow eclipse hoarding your flesh like a miser of moonlight strands. Outside, crows heckle the parking lot, tallying…
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10.06: The Old Woman With No Cat
Dead Woman Boils the Kettle While Contemplating Life’s Divine Comedy the old woman’s teasteeps like a minor miracle—hot water turning leavesinto prophecy. she adds honey,stolen from the gods’ own breakfast,stirs counterclockwiseto spite the universe’s spin. the neighbour’s cat(now self-appointed familiar)drapes itself over the drainboard,watching her with the smugnessof a creature who’s read all the sacred…
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07.06: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: 1.Thankful that I was able to clear out the fridge before leaving on holiday, and not throw any of it in the bin. 2.AirTags. I repeat: AirTags. And AirTag knock-offs that work just as well as the genuine article. Thankful that our lost luggage in Philadelphia was found, thanks to AirTags,…
It's Still Life 