Category: music
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #4
4 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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2102: SenHai #40
SenryuI sink past the noisedown where even my worrieslose their sharp edges Haikulight through moving bluestones cradle the silent floortime drifts without sound Written for Saturday SenHai #40 . Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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2102: Journal of Thoughts
Gardening Tips for Late Winter The shovel was his wife’s. Silver-gilt handle, worn smooth by her grip. He’d kept it after she left, hung it on a hook in the shed where the light never reached. He started small. Digging in the garden’s far corner, where the roses failed and the soil gave easily. He…
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #3
3 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #2
2 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #1
1 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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1702: Ash and Interleaf
Part 2: Of Ash and Interleaf — from Brigid’s Diary: Paris, 17 February 1833 The pages between here and the turn of the Seine have been removed, fed to the fire, their spines cracking like small bones. Felreil says Paris is a danger made of touchpaper and of men who read silence as a lip-wet…
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1502: Sunday Whirl 744
Plesiosaurs At salty edgesthe beasts drank brineand bit the wind. The tides drag debris;bone, rib, vertebra,a silver scatterunder the tilt of a ruined sky. The jaw of the seacracks open. It does not sip.It slathers rock raw.It vaults the horizonlike a spine snapping. Voices?Gone. Each stitch of speechripped from the throat,salt-packed,swallowed whole. The edges remember.The…
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1302: Naming the Unclaimed
Naming the Unclaimed Wolf moon.Orion’s Belt.Sirius, bold and low. She stands beneath them,wrapped in night’s blanket,its hem dusted with memory. Each star is a name she mouthslike a lullaby,like a story left unfinished. Children she never bore,their light traveling yearsto reach her upturned face. Jupiter.Pollux.Canopus. She counts them slowly—not to possess,but to belong. The city…
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1002: Six Sentence Story
Passport Interrogation Part 1, Calais, 12 November 1830 The paddle-wheeler pitched us into France; the quay fatigued by tides, received us without welcome, smelling of coal and old salt. Under a dripping lamp the policeman collected our passports like birds he meant to keep, and we surrendered them as one surrenders breath to winter. Felreil,…
