Category: AI Art
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Day 3: Poem-a-Day Challenge
A Crow with a Pocketful of Stanzas (a tricube diptych) I. The Arithmetic of Yellow Sun’s shorthand—Grandma’s cakeand bee’s sigh. Dandeliontime bombstick, bloom, flee. Door left ajar—light poolsin threes—free. II. Crow’s Afternoon Tea Black beaks dipin stanzas—sweet, sharp, thief. “Honey-dust?”No—sun’s rustand grief’s leaf. They caw, flee,wingtips smudgedwith your laugh. Here are the rules of tricubes:…
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Day 2: Poem-a-Day Challenge
Beyond All the Summers I’ve Seen It’s the start of the day,light in the thicket and the wood. There’s a mellow light, mellower than sunrise,somewhere yellower than daffodils,somewhere beyond all the summers I’ve seen. Yellow, like honey, yet somehow sweeter—sweeter than love letters yet to be sent.Where light writes the names of pardons on leaves.…
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Day 1: Poem-a-Day Challenge
The Flour and the Fleeing The clocks rang out a timeless chime,Its singing breath was summer’s rhyme It was the best of times—or so we swore,fingers licked, sticky frosted buns we stole.A hint of sugar clung to our clothes—our delicious mischief it was so. I saw it all: the flour and the fleeing.How light bends…
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2.04: Six Trifecta – The Last Day
Beyond an Intersection Named After an English King and a SaintSix Sentence Story: The Final Day (Part 3) The Isle of Skye: To Write an Ending The sun frets Loch Harport with gold so flaked and sharp that I hold my breath just to see—this is Carbost, the Isle of Skye, and Talisker Distillery; we’re here…
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2.04: Six Trifecta- The Last Days
Beyond an Intersection Named After an English King and a SaintSix Sentence Story: Day 16 (Part 2) Stitched Together I watch the sun rise in the rearview mirror, and there it is: Fàilte gu Alba—Welcome to Scotland—it’s not intent; it’s a thick-soled boot stomping, Here ends England, and I nudge Nick awake, “We’re in Scotland—four or so…
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1.04: Six Trifecta: The Last Days
Beyond an Intersection Named After an English King and a SaintSix Sentence Story: Day 15 Part 1 – Lake Windermere: It Starts Without a Plan It begins, as many days do, without a plan—the sun rising behind the steep, sloping hills in a shade of green too lush for naming—and I stand on the dock,…
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01.04: The Old Woman Without a Cat
The Old Woman Without a Cat the old woman with no cat sitson the garden step in perfect past tense,next to daffodils that are going papery dry and swollen with seeds. she knows she should snap off theirlittle dead heads, leave them headless as if she were a protagonistin a nursery rhyme, but instead she…
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29.03: Found Poetry of Ragnarök c.17
Ragnarök: Found in the Weavers c. 17 Found poetry from ‘The Elder or Poetica Edda now safe I am backin service to my silenceand soft … Suttung svikvinn …speeches whispering roadsthat made room for passingthrough rock… Suttung svikvinn … and I worked doubtinto pay back, intotrue heart’s earthly…
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27 March: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: 1. I’m thankful that the footpath leading from the source of the River Mole (this river is West Sussex’s River Styx—it disappears underground and never resurfaces, hence it’s name, Mole)—anyway, the footpath has finally dried in the spring sunshine, and it’s navigable on foot again without slipping. 2. And I’m thankful…
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26.03: Let the Last Breath Linger
Prosery: Let the Last Breath Linger some memories, like thin bells,vanishing, a song faint and low. A summer of being. Thirteen. Surrendering my mornings to the public library—piles of books, biblichor, waiting quiet as secrets. Quiet as a librarian’s finger to her lips: shush. I devoured the Dewey Decimal System. It became a fiery furnace…
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