Category: AI Art
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28 Oct: A Six – P34, Channelling Agency
At an Intersection Named After an English King and a SaintSix Sentence Story: Part 34 Channelling Agency Pierre wants more black paint (he’s in his “Black Period, his Pinturas Negras,) and says he’s channelling Francisco Goya by recreating the “Witches’ Sabbath” on the walls of his bedroom – grey pithless sun-down hills spawning menace and…
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27 Oct: Channelling Goya
Channelling Goya’s Pinturas Negras He’s in an abyss only knownin a poet’s dream of eternal foreboding.He stands before a wallin his common guise,straight as a sentinel corn in a field.And he paintsstrokes of thunder’s crash, a shroud of twilight’s black dim around moonlight’s rim.It’s a secret memoryof darkness loyal to the moon,of returning roads and…
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24 Oct: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: TTOT 26 Oct Week 43 1. I’m very thankful that the branch, about the heft of a muscular man’s arm, that fell to ground during Sunday’s storm … missed the greenhouse. 2. Thankful for one sunny day after days of rain and wind that knocked over all my sunflowers. Nature does…
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24 Oct: Journal of Thoughts
Remembering Her I always meant to sayyou were the magic that I wished for,the way that you’d twistnewspaper into tight bowtie shapes,stack kindlingagainst it, and light a fire that silenced a roomfor a well spent moment or two. And then would come that snap.That spark. You would light up a dark nichelike a song leading…
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23 October: Bleed the Wind
Bleed the Wind (Haibun) 1.Winter swept in, and whipped through the roses. Its thorns ripped, tore and bled the wind, and there were no words to fall on paper that wouldn’t stick to the nub of my pen … but words I found in the whispers of the forest, in the colours of all things…
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22 October: Six Sentence Trifecta
When Ink Stops, the Pen Goes Dry October is pouring itself away. Rain sharp as swords that utter their own words, and then reel out of the gutters icy-loud … (leaf mould blocking the downspouts again). I buried another pigeon, the second in a week – it died, wrapped in a towel while I held…
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20 October: Tattoo
Tattoo It’s the reason for poetry.Rebirth. From a spark to burning bushand clutched breath –a flaming tail’s plume and wings spread. Reborn of ash.Feathers of fire.A beacon of obsidian ink.A crystal dark and bright. Phoenix, ignite the skin and flee this earth,to sky,to nebulae,from death to rebirth. Each line etched and filled in deep,each shade…
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19 Oct: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: Ten Things of Thankful – Week 42 1. Lunch and an afternoon at the Tate Modern with an old friend who I’ve not seen for years. She says I’ve not changed. I told her that looks are deceiving. 2. Finished a pen and watercolour based on a photograph I took from…
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18 Oct: for dVerse’s Quadrille
La Petite Mort Watch her buckles and buttons shinelike fading light of a waning moon.She dances alone with the ancients,leaping over fallen trees, ferns and mosses.They watch her dance until the musicin her head vanishes.Until her song is gone.La petite mort. Note: 1) rewritten/condensed from Six Sentence Story. 2) La Petite Mort: I know the…
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17 Oct: The Bones of Winter
The Bones of Winter The bones of winter rattle ear to ear,and the ghost of my motheris knitting in her chair. Her spine is cold as October, and it descends on me, it is an emotional colour,the light of its juice which won’t go away until March.It glitters of frost in the air, and I…
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