Category: Poetry
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0406: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: Expectations while other girlsmade daisy chains, I dropped a hookwith a wormin a puddle and expected a fish. I’ve never been afraidof worms. Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a starting point and follow wherever attention leads. It’s — go for a walk and see where you end up. Some…
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0206: Everywhere Poems
Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a starting point and follow wherever attention leads. It’s — go for a walk and see where you end up. A Kitchen Window Poem there’s a birdin the birdbath, wings emptyingthe bowl, rain fallingthrough the trees. A grey squirrelcrosses the fence, its taila thickened brush — annoyed…
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0106: Liturgy for a Starry Night
Liturgy for a Starry Night, Part 12.1, Arles, Spring 1836(where beauty is the last thing left that belongs to us) I. The Yellow HouseIt sits on the corner,mustard yellow, warm to the eye,a promise of shelterthat the nose immediately contradicts. Damp plaster. Fried onion.Lingering acrid smoke from firesthat never fully caught. This is Arles.This is…
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3105: Meteora – Second Voice
The featured image is used with the kind permission of Nick (Spira) . Meteora UNESCO. Second Voice The cavesremainafter the voices leave. Dark openings in rock,like mouthspausingbefore speaking, where questions gothat are no longer satisfiedwith easy answers. A man enters the cavecarrying his voice. Years later, two voices leave. One asks.One answers. Again.And again. Until…
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31 May, Meteora: Remains
The featured image is used with the kind permission of Nick (Spira) who holds all rights. Meteora: Remains I. Passing Through Memory Not mountain.Silt.Water’s slow thoughtfulness. The sea remembers mebetter than the sky. Shell.Darkness.Weight. Pressure as language. I have worn the shape of riverslonger than rivershave worn names. A fish once passed through me.A root.The…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Heron in the Birdbath (An Almost Diplomatic Incident) The heron has arrived.A tall, grey-blue silencestanding knee-deep in the birdbath… like a librarian who’s forgottenwhy she entered the reading room. THE OLD WOMAN’S VIEW:“How majestic. How serene.A living sculpture,a breath of wildin our overgrown garden.”She reaches for her sketchpad,her tea going cold. THE CAT’S VIEW…
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30.05: Journal of SenHai
Journey’s End Senryuthe voyage endednow the currents ask the wreckwhich way they should turn Haikugreen tides cross the wreckwaves recall what wood forgotthe sea writes anew Written for SenHai Saturday #54. ©Misky 2006-2026. The image is an aerial view of waves crashing over a submerged shipwreck at sea. The water shows us varying hues of…
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30.05: Journal of Thoughts
Stream of Consciousness: Blackfriars Station Southbound I listen to the steadiness of train tracks. It’s an older song now, replaced by long steel rails humming with boredom. The conductor scans the code on my ticket, mumbles something, walks on. Summer gathering on the verges. Spring was only a skipped heartbeat. Wild rhododendrons blooming pink as…
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27 May: Journal of Thoughts
There are songs in my feet. I turnthrough the kitchen, waltz morningonto its toes. Sunlightclimbs the trees,green wakingleaf by leaf. No audience, only the kettle,the floorboards, and this small happinessmoving through mewithout permission. Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is authentically my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
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25 May: The Liturgy for Accents
Part 11.2, Avignon, 1836: Liturgy for Accents That BetrayWhere the crowd turns on a syllable I. The Unforgivable DifferenceSometimes — it is how you say it. The foreign curl of a vowel,a rhythmlearned elsewhere. Brigid’s accent rises like smokeabove the herbs,the ointments like smoke from a fireno one sees. She asksfor chamomile,for arnica,for small remedies…
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