Category: prose
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26 July: MicroDosing 100µg
Feathers and Stones — (microDosing / surprise – 100µg) It’s a child’s view — watching the morning sun moving round the kitchen. It pulses through the lace curtains in fragments, like memory unraveling. The house hums. The walls remember more than I do. Grandmother does, too. She startles like joy, or prophecy. “Fetch me the…
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23 July: dVerse Prosery
Equinox She was a daughter of light, yes — but even as a child, she watched the shadows move first. They gathered beneath her bed like cats. Flicked the candles when no wind stirred. Knew her name before she did. She tried to stay loyal to the sun. Woke early. A sunrise child. Let its…
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20 July: MicroDosing 70µg
Soil’s Song ( a 70µg microdose of 70 words) I know soil. Its memory hums beneath my feet, my hands deep in its dark gospel — decay turned bloom. A cradle for seed, for bone, and eternity’s silence — where roots whisper, gossiping like neighbours over the fence. I know the hush of unborn gardens,…
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18 July: Microdosing Fiction
Unsolved “I’m home,” she calls to her husband upstairs, “I’ll just put the groceries away.” Milk in the door, grapes in the drawer, eggs top shelf…. Next morning, the warm scent of coffee’s brewing, sunlight slicing through the kitchen blinds. She puts a frying pan on the stove to warm, opens the fridge door, and…
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15 July: Driftspire – The Liturgy
14 of 27 Driftspire – The Poem – The joy of being completely unknown 14 of 27 – The Liturgy of Driftspire I. The UnbuttoningNo name.No story.Just the hushof fog dissolving the edges of memory. Here, you shrug off the coat of who you wereand let it pool at your feet—a puddle of forgotten pronouns.Step…
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7 July: Stillrift – The Liturgy
13 of 27: Stillrift — The Liturgy Poem: Peace Earned from Ruin Let It Become Weather I. The ArrivalNo trumpet. No epiphany.Just the click of a lock after the last word leaves—a silence so thick it tastes like blindness,as dust settles into somethinglike horizon.The wound scabs.Stillrift arrives when the itch fadesinto the patience of scars.…
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5 July: Morning on the Lake
Morning on the Lake (memories from a child’s diary) The boat’s nose sniffs at sunrise—wet-bright and sweet, chasingits tail across a rising hush, and the oars dip and grin,spilling silver over minnowsthat taste of pepper and paper. I am queen of this nowhere kingdom.I am Amphitrite of dragonfly fleets.My hair is plaited in ropes of…
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2 July: Fireworks for 100WW
Fireworks Hotdogs. Mustard. Mum’s potato salad — she always brought it to family dos. It was thick with mayo, heavy on onion, chopped eggs, cubed potatoes, and crushed saltine crackers. “Saltines are a southern thing,” she explained to my aunt, who, in turn, huffed that Mum wasn’t southern; she was more northern than Alaska. While…
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30 June: Frostwrit – The Liturgy
12 of 27 – Frostwrit – The Poem – Affection Behind a Locked JawA liturgy in six verses I.The Invocation of Knitted BrowsA grandmother’s voice stitches the air—a grey thread pulled tight between fear and fury.The hen’s feathers are not snow.They are the first frost,and the girl is learning to walk on ice. II.The Hiss…
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27 June: A Thameslink Elegy
This poem is best read accompanied by “Spiegel im Spiegel” by Arvo Pärt. Let the music hold the silence between the lines. The Unspooling: A Thameslink Elegy The morning began folded into metal wings,Calder’s mobiles turning the gallery airinto a cantata of pivots—my ears catching what my eyescouldn’t hold. (I listened, a recording, your voice,…
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