Category: music
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0704: Journal of Thoughts
7 April 17:01, 19℃ …says he’s going to lie down on his back for awhile, and so my question is, obviously, Does your back hurt, and he says, No, it’s just this cold you gave me makes me feel old (incidentally that is arse-backwards — he gave it to me first), and in truth we’re…
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0504: A Cantata
A Cantata Speak to meof green, she said. I said —vertigris, crushed mint,a willow’s yawn,sap rising, a celloin a maple’s veins. Hear it — bird-staccato,crow’s low oboe through the breezein polished bark. Breathe it — fern,grass bladesscissoring light, pine resinhumming slow gold. It waitsuntil you press your earto a leaf and listento what is leaving.…
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0404: Journal of SenHai
Persistence Senryu:we rush through our days the stream takes its time insteadand still gets further Haiku:narrow canyon wallswater threads through ancient stone time learns how to flow Written for SenHai Saturday #46 ©Misky 2006-2026. Image from Unsplash.
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0304: ST(R)AY – The Book
ST(R)AY This book is a meeting place. Black-and-white film photographs by Nick Maroudis sit alongside poems by Marilyn Braendeholm, each page holding a small moment of attention. A dog crossing a road. A pause in passing light. A life moving quietly alongside our own. These are not stories of rescue or loss. They are simply…
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0204: Journal of Thoughts
My sister had three of them behind glass. They’d swim, stunned by their own beauty and grandeur, skimming through long blades of green. First they ate all the smaller fish in the tank, and then the three of them set upon each other until only one remained. And there he swam alone for nearly 15-years.…
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0104: Journal of Thoughts
The Leak The calendar hangs:boxes, numbers,the fiction of order. Minutes leak. Not quickly.That would be kindness. Through sleep.Through distraction.Through the body’s small betrayals. An afternoon lost in a chair.A word gone missing at the stair.Morning gonebefore the kettle cools. February: a sieve.March: a colander. To ageis to learnyou do not spend your hours.You lose them.…
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3103: dVerse Haibun
March is a mad hare in a fit. Wild, bounding, all elbows and interruptions. He sits in the sun until he remembers he prefers frost, then leaps up and overturns the day. “Change places!” he cries, though no one is sitting where they were to begin with. He pours tea into the wind, scolds the…
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3103: The Hinge
The Hinge That Forgot Its Door A hinge without a doorstill turns, not freely,not fully,but enough to remember. Two plates,a pin worn thin,holding to a purposethat no longer exists. It opens into nothing. Again.Again. A motion rehearsedlong after the meaninghas gone. Wind finds itand it answers,a small, obedient shudder, as if something unseenstill passes through,as…
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3103: Six Sentence Story
Brigid’s Diary: Part 06, Lyon First Motion on the Rhône Steamboat The steamboat did not startle me; it announced itself, breath thick with coal, pistons beating like a heart forced into discipline, smoke writing its claim across the Rhône as though the river had been waiting to be corrected. I watched the paddle bite water…
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3003: Spring Journal
She Walks the Fair She walks the fair, a carousel’s brass musictugging at her sleeve, buys a daffodilfrom a man with kind hands, watches a child spinuntil the world goes loose. The scent of frying dough,cinnamon and sugar,the squeak of a wheel, a stranger’s laughthat sounds like her own. She carries a paper coneof warm…
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