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24 The Found Poetry Project
Extricate From the desert, utter silence,while noise extricates me of water. A small stone makes small ripples,but a large stone swallowsmy depth and breadth. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. (found on pgs 70-78) Wounded by Love, The Life and…
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23 The Found Poetry Project
Enlightened Never thought it fantasy,a chandelier oversuch fine wordsor a long story, or thirty-three years as if one day. The soul is not responsiblefor the mistakes of man.I said that.Often. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. (found on pgs 60-62)…
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23 October: God’s Seed
God’s Seed I know a woman who cleansdirt off a bar of soap. Her husband is a clean man,always smells of Wright’s Coal Tar. Spends his days on knobby knees,planting seed against the willof God’s own wind. His only mistress is the land —widely indifferent to his wife,who dreams of the day when his manhood…
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22 The Found Poetry Project
22 October I am a hunted birdthat wants to fly. a howling fury.rain rattling a window. the world’s tempest.I am utter wildness. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. (found on pages 55-56) Wounded by Love, The Life and Wisdom of…
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21 The Found Poetry Project
the book was law,and since I was damned anyway, I became a poet,and slept in an evergreen oak. it bloomed wild with clematisand prophets. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. (found on pgs 48-51) Wounded by Love, The Life and…
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21 October: We Reigned
We Reigned Over Summer As a kid, I understood water.Dive in head-first, water seems hollow.Feet-first, it’s a brick wall. Sometimes I’d pretend to be a boat, capsized.Or an iceberg. Frozen. Stiff. Floatinglike a Poohstick. Then I’d wade outof the shallows, imagine every stone left dry and parched, fish flapping —all that water held in my…
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20 October: Ten Minutes Past Twelve
At 10 Minutes Past Twelve …he says he’s burnt the soup.How do you burn a liquid, I ask,and he says he just turned his back on it for a second, and it was toast. How does soup become toast, I ask,and he says marrying a poet is a bloody curse. Toast it is, I tell…
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20 October: Deep Water
Deep Water That black lake lies flat,lessons for a river, and there’s a far away tree,punctuation at the lake’s end, I want you, it says. Thin little skinny tree,as if fiction was a fact of death. Deep water is what it is,a fear that says it wants you. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI,…
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20 The Found Poetry Project
I wandered in my thoughts,weak of bone and skin, and all I wanted wasmorning silence of forest, but my mind was weighedheavy with life. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. (found on pgs 45-47) Wounded by Love, The Life and…
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19 October: A Thursday Door
Bushboy (Brian Dodd) shares photos of doors, but not just any doors. Spectacular doors from his journeys. Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the door on this. I love doors of all sorts. I’ve trawled through my holiday snaps and found a few to share. ©Misky 2023 Shared on X #amwriting @bushboywhotweet and @DAntion
It's Still Life 