Category: Journal
-
1302: Journal of Thoughts
Torsion Without Tear Some days, the world is clear-woven.A linen of light, laid flat, to read the warp,the weft of a leaf,the true grain of a face in the morning. Some days are a slow, internal hand,taking the cloth by its cornersand twisting. There is no rip, no tear.It torques —edges sharpened,but still whole. A…
-
0602: Journal of Thoughts
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground. Letting a foxglove grow wild in your garden is a way to kneel. Your dignity is not in your command, but in your constant, devotion to the love that moves the sun and the stars. The Foxglove in My Garden Speckled throat.Bell-tower of the…
-
0402: Journal of Thoughts
The Unraveling Atlas All of it vanished. An atlas of her mind,its cities and borders,quietly disowned by its own map. She tries, but my nameis a syllable without a home, a drift of familiar musicthat slips off the edge of the worldevery time I leave.Or finish a sentence. I learn to search her forgetting.To check…
-
190126: Journal of Thoughts
Today Is the Day Morning unfastened itself in rain,a soft grey unlatching of the world.I pulled the curtains, and there it was,a small plane stitching the sky,dragging its sentence behind it:Today is the day. No thunder followed.No doors flew open.The kettle boiled.The hours put on their usual coatsand walked past without stopping. Still, that banner…
-
1501: His Weather
His Weather I know a small boy made of bottled thunder.His fingers hook into claws;his body drops to a low animal growl,a sound dragged up from somewhere older than words. His mother says her boy frightens her sometimes,that in those momentslove feels like a thing with edges. I watch his hands braid themselves into fists.When…
-
10.01: Journal of Thoughts
The Thimble and the Hummingbird I. The Inheritance of Absence I keep few things.A silver thimble, a rocking chair,and a preference for memory over monument.Objects shed their stories like birch bark,curling inward, fragile, ghost-scripted.But the thimble holds the shape of her fingerprint,the chair holds the curve of her spine,and I —I hold the space between.…
-
23.12: Journal of Thoughts
The Gift Economy We are not measured by balance sheets,a favour owed, a debt now cleared.The soul keeps no such ledger. We are measured by the cup of watergiven to the rootless seed,by the shelter built for a stranger’s storm,by the word spoken into a silencethat might never answer back. Love, like poetry, is a…
-
0401: A Heightened Pass Through the Current
We’re talking Venezuela;it’s coup dressed up as civics,steam lifting words from our mouths like ghoststhat won’t vote,and I am a bubble in the jacuzzi,a brief republic of air, spinning its borders open and shut. “Wasn’t it flat feet that spared Einstein the uniform,” I say, and facts being facts, statements pretending not to ask permission,…
-
31.12: To You All
Happy New Year and my very best wishes to you all. — Marilyn (Misky) 🜄 Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI. Poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
-
23.12: Journal of Thoughts
A Stream of Consciousness from Colombia …mantequilla — it’s a small packet that might be butter — it’s probably butter; it’s in a basket next to the bread rolls. Marmite is a long shot. Salsa, not such a long shot. ¡Buenos días! He asks if I want eggs. Two. ¿Medio? I will take them how…
It's Still Life 