Category: Twiglets
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Twiglet #8 “Folding Chairs”
The Art of Being a Chair Measured and meticulous, we put them there, lined them up like a keyboard, organised in tidy rows of rules, standing, whalebone stiff, and I bet that van Gogh’s chair was never this breathless. But there’s no funeral here, no sermon, no ceremony — just a room, waiting for the…
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Miz Quickly’s Day 14 & Twiglet #6
A Taste for Ink Mum gave me a proper pen for my 10th birthday. I wanted a watch. But that pen drew promises as I positioned its nib on paper. I waited for a Royal Blue river of conversation to start, And I hoped to fill notebooks as if hanging paintings on a blank wall.…
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Twiglet #5: A Cold Radiator
And That’s All I Know I was born in a pocket-sized skinny town that was pelted with a great deal of want. Our neighbour was a large man, reminded me of a cold radiator, or a kettle full of thunder. I recall that he had impeccable aim; he could pee on a gnat before it…
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Twiglet #3: Across the Room
Crumbling Midwinter Light So here I am, somewhere under the sun, although I’ve not seen even the briefest bit of it today. Just mist and ice-gripped grass, and a world made for crisis, and crumbling midwinter light. At least the spread of dust under foot is less noticeable. So I do the “noticeable” chores, and…
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dVerse Haibun #27 and Twiglet #2
Two version of the same piece. The first is written as a haibun for dVerse Poets using the word “night”. The second version is the original that uses linebreaks, created as a free-write exercise for prompt #2 at The Twiglets. I. Run Away I’ve drawn over my childhood where there’s no children’s hour, no storybook…
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Twiglets #1: He Knows Boats
He Knows Boats He knows boats. Old boats. New. Salt-brined and wind-whistled and tied to a pier. He knows their songs. Their sound by ear. Steel clips slapping hard, hitting on aluminium masts. Just by the tone of it, he knows who made it, knows its length and its name. And he knows how to…
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