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2701: dVerse Quadrille
The Yellows There was a timewhen time was everywhere.Autumn leaves meanttime for school,time for yellow pencils with rubber tips, and winter meanttime for rain coats,and tripping in yellow rubber bootstwo sizes too big —“Grow into them,” Mum said. Written for dVerse Poets Quadrille #240 (44 words including “Trip”). Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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2701: Six Sentence Story
A View on Voyeurism Louise’s kitchen window faces two houses: Alison’s, her husband, a retired podiatrist, and Jean’s — her husband lies face-down between the hydrangeas and the electricity meter. Southeast Ambulance Service stands with him, or rather does not; the defibrillator is put away, as if it’s a game they lost interest in playing.…
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2601: The Liturgy for the Watching People
Liturgy for the Window Vigil I. The Geometry of WitnessingA window is a frame.Not for art,but for the ordinary.We think we are looking out,but we are really looking in. Into the small, sudden theatre of endings.Where medics close a defibrillatorlike a book whose final lineno one wants to read aloud. II. Of DistanceWhat we see…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
Do Cats Know How to Swim?(Or A Torrential Tale in One Question) The rain has not stopped for two days.The patio is a shallow lake.The birdbath is a waterfall in revolt.And the cat — who is not hers, never hers, stares out as if the worldhas personally offended himwith its weather. Without turning,whiskers twitching at…
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2401: Senryu-Haiku
I. Senryuhe learns every wordbut not the sky’s wild grammarwe clip him with names Haikucaged in falling lighthis shadow flutters, silentwings remembering II. Senryuhe mimics our wordsbut says nothing of the cagewe built around him Haikurain veils the silenceon a branch, grey feathers dreamforest holds its breath Written for SenHai Saturday . Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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2401: Ceramic Truths
Ceramic Truths The sun is splitting the sky open.Night lifts,a spill of milk — dawn is like sleeping with the lights on. My mug; always this one.White, a black penny-farthing.Tivoli. Copenhagen.(Not Rome. Never been.Though I do like pasta.) The chip in the handlefits my thumb like a worry stone,a small devotion,a memory of the morningwhen…
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Csárdás Part 3
Csárdás (as body-memory) The first stroke of the bowis not music;it is touch.A slow drag,a finger tracing the spineof the room. The sound is dark,sultry with sorrow,the colour of bruised wineand old heat. People close their eyes.Some wounds open.Some hips stir. Then the rhythm snaps!God, it snaps,and the body answersbefore the mind can. Heels strike…
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22 Jan: Ten Things of Thankful
1.) …were you eaten by a cat; were you hit by a car; did a fox get you while your back was turned? Those were my thoughts for 2 weeks while my crow, who’s not my crow and never will be my crow, had a strop because I was away in Colombia. I am thankful…
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2201: MicroDosing 100 µg
He made this bench from an oak limb felled by lightning. Each plank cut and oiled by hand. It learned to read the curve of my spine. It knows the weight of thought. It was a July afternoon, heat spilling in from the continent, he found me in a gift of shade, he held two…
It's Still Life 