Category: Poetry
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04.10: The Distance Back
The Distance Back While my little boat moves on its moorings,the day passes in mistand pine-green,and somewhere between the waterand the trees,childhood returns. The world is wide again.Trees grow touch-close to heaven, and in the crystal of the waterthe moon is comforted. There is wind in my earsand birdsfind their perches again, and for a…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Fallen Branch(Or: A Feline Inquiry into Loss and Limbs) The Old Woman comes in from the garden,arms scratched,breathing slightly hard,dragging the last of a great branchto the burn pile. The cat watches from the windowsill,head tilted. “Old Woman,” he says,“that branch was large.It was attached to the tree.For years.It grew there.It knew the tree.It…
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The Old Woman’s Weather
29.09 – 905 Watts in Sussex cloudsthe old woman asks the roofto make slow-cooker beef stew the repairman arrivessays the house alarmis older than his thirty-year-old son replaces the batteryold for newwhile the roof makes teathen more tea because repairmen have hollow legsthey need to filllike a battery — from The Old Woman’s Weather All…
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The Old Woman’s Weather
27.09 – 417 Watts The old woman in cloudy England puts solar panels on her roof. Her son says it’s madness;it’s always cloudy here. She puts the weatherto work anyway. Weather used to be something she talked about. Now it does household chores. 28.09 – 0 Watts at dusk the weather clocks off. the old…
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30.09: dVerse Haibun
Reflections on Sight and Shadows Not yet, but nearly. “In the sunlight we are all blind,” she says. Winter sun lies low, barely touching the alley, missing the cat, the rat, the chase. She tilts her head; her ears lean into the wind as it troubles the fence slats and moves through them with a…
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28.09: The Liturgy
Liturgy for the Answers That Yield More Questions(for the pacing, the waking, the silent photographs) I. The Floor That Knows Your FootstepsYou have worn a path in the carpet.Back and forth,as if the fibres might rearrange themselvesinto a confessionif you walk them long enough. But they do not. The carpet only holds the shape of…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Keyboard Chaise Lounge(Or: A Feline Declaration of Workspace Sovereignty) The cat is stretched across the keyboard,full length,tail draped over the escape key,one paw resting softly on the space bar,as if he owns it, which, in his mind, he does. The Old Woman peers over the top of her knitting,needles paused,skepticism etched in her forehead.…
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2609: Everywhere Poems
Cladoptosis it draws itself inside from out, the oak sheds a limb beside the greenhouse. 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 images created with Midjourney; all writing is my own original work.©Misky…
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2209: The Liturgy
Liturgy number 07 Dead Men Don’t Drown “Liturgy for the Sea That Refused”(for the man who became paper, and the wave that said no) I. The Reduction of a Man to PaperThey gave you a file.Not a body.Not a burial.Not the salt-scoured bonesthe sea should have surrenderedafter the proper amount of grieving. They gave you…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Birthday Surprise(Or: A Cat’s Guide to Celebrating Humans) The Old Woman wakes to find the kitchen transformed.Streamers (chewed, slightly).Balloons (deflated, mostly).And the cat, perched on the table,wearing a paper crown he clearly made himself(it says “KING KNUT” with a drawingof a sardine where the jewel should be). “Happy birthday,” he announces.“I have planned everything.You…
