Category: AI Art
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30.04: A Six – The Book of 27
3 of 27: Threshgold – a Colour once felt, not seen—the terror just before hope Content Warning: This post discusses topics including suicide. Reader discretion is advised. If you are feeling vulnerable, please consider whether you wish to proceed. The Colour Called Threshgold Her breath is steady, scarf tugged loose by the wind, and she…
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29.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Milk’s Mortality Crisis the cat paces before the fridgelike a wee, furry coroner,one paw pressed to the milk bottle’s pulse. “it’s clinging to life,” purrs the cat.“one more dawn, maybe two.”the old woman peers at the use-by date—smudged, dubious,possibly written in invisible ink. “it’s fine,” she declares.“time is a construct.also,…
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28.04: Threshgold- The Liturgy
3 of 27: Threshgold – a Colour once felt, not seen—the terror just before hope 3 of 27: Threshgold – the terror just before hope I. The Threshgold Threshgold is not the leap—it’s the foot hoveringabove the abyss,the heartbeat where fallingand flyingstill wear the same face. You’ll find it in the pausebefore the pistol shot,before…
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28.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and Aleph in the Garden My mother’s name is Aleph—a swallowed alphabet,the dirt’s own first vowel. The robin cocks its head.“Explain the worm, then.” The old woman with no catsinks her spade again—bites clay, bites air, bites centuries.“Aleph,” she mutters,“is the shape a worm writes—a letter no god can read.” The robin…
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26.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
A Hermit Crab Poem: On the Back of a Receipt 1 bottle full-fat milk(life is too short for skimming anything)3 overripe avocados(they bruise faster than first loves)1 jar of honey(thicker than apologies at 2 AM)2 donuts(the baker knows my name.asks, “where’ve you been?”I say, “somewhere warmer.”he nods like a priest absolving an absentee.) 1 bouquet…
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26.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Second-Hand Spellbook – (Domestic Maleficia) the old woman drags home the tome—its spine cracked like a bad omen,its margins scribbled with “TRY THIS :)”in what might be bloodor very committed raspberry jam. the neighbour’s cat(now a black market bibliomancer)sniffs a page and sneezes:“ah. cursed. discounted. perfect.” the dead woman flips…
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26.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
The Dark with Gold i save your voice in a jam jar—it hums when shaken.your laugh—a fireflyi release at dusk,stitching the dark with gold. the fridge still holdsyour half of the brownie—fossil-sweet,still waiting, some losses don’t grow lighter,only wider—like a treeforgiving its own roots. only 4 more days of too many poems a day 🤣…
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Felreil: The Liturgy – The Book of 27
Author’s Note – A Presence, Not a Story You’ve already met him. Felreil appears in every Six Sentence Story in the Book of 27. He is the stillness in the doorway—the witness behind the Colour. This is his name, his silence, his breath. (You may never see the stories the same way again after reading…
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25.04: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: 1) I’m thankful for the brilliant spring display from the tulips and daffodils this spring. The break in their colour is caused by a virus, which made them highly prized during the 17th, causing Dutch tulip mania. The virus is spread by aphids, and settles in the bulb. 2) The grapevines…
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25.04 The Old Woman With No Cat
Part III. AN ELEGY FOR THE BLUE AND WHITE VASE(a sonnet-that’s-not for Grandmother’s shattered treasure) I. THE FALL it fell—not as a failureof hands,but as the last noteof a songher grandmotherleft unfinishedin this world. the blue and white shardsbloomed on the floor—porcelain hydrangeasplantedin sudden soil. II. THE JOURNEY’S END it was time.the vase had grownheavy…
It's Still Life 