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17 September: A Few Photos
Photos from Vester Åby, Lundeborg, Fjællebroen, and Hotel Schloss Wilkinghege in Münster Germany Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.
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17 September: Idling Thoughts on a Road Trip
16.09.23 07:50 (Münster, Germany)Breakfast: Birchers (overnight oats) made with yogurt and blueberries. It sticks to your ribs. He says, It’s also stuck on my t-shirt. 08:10“Oh, look,” he says, “there’s a young person! What’s he doing here?” I tell him, He’s probably selling walking sticks. It’s off-peak rates again. Pensioners on the move. Come September,…
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16 September: Idling Thoughts on a Road Trip
15.09.23 05:10 (West Sussex)It’s autumn, dead end gardening, rose crush, rudbeckia rot, a grim faced dance, and the moon hangs like a fallen log. I’m not pleasant company before sunrise. 08:25 My granny, the one with the goats and white rabbits, was a herbalist. She said that hair is magic. Don’t let it fall into…
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14 September: Undertones
Undertones He wants music,not just sounds,music found in every day things. Combustion that leaves smoke on your hands. The music of raindrops in an empty tin. Pots. Pans. Brooms, and metal tubes. Pen on paper. The music of small wordslike it, or at, or if, and autumn’s music in the beech trees,which are alreadyfalling out…
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14 September: Announcement
I’ll be away for a bit. Two episodes of The Goatherder are scheduled, and I’ll pop in when wifi is available. Until then, Jeg tager dig med. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.
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13 September: Flashback to June
When It Was June All the cherries fell.Not from wind or ripeness,it was hail and rain. A substantial cropthat nature emptiedfrom the crowded branches. Summer burns the streets.Doors. Windows. Open wide.Grannies on the shaded stoop. I bought cherries that day.Rinsed them in cold water,and ate them as if my own. Lips.Fingers. Cherry-stained.Stones spat across the…
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12 September: An Ekphrastic Poem
An Ekphrastic Poem: A Contemplative Man The sky is full of his thinking,he is an old soul, and communeswith the footsteps of ancestors. Metaphors float in olive oil,and chunks of bread for dipping.And like magic, his eyelids smile,and we fall into his eyes. Paint brushes in a chalice,sculpted metal, filamental freedom.Air fills with scented pages…
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11 September: The Goatherd #8
The Stirring of Clouds She says the stars are raining,and clouds are stirring in her belly. to sleep.to wake. to dream.to hope not to live for oneself, says the man. She tells him she doesn’t sleep when she dreams,that she only sees trees that never leaf,and sparks that burn the wind. The air snaps with…
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10 September: RDP’s Disguise
The Disguise of Economic Buoyancy The neighbour runs from the gardeninto her house, closes the windows.She’s burning years of paper receipts. Things once had. Things she still has.Things eaten.Broken.Busted.Forgotten. Consumerism,and an emergency bucket of waterto put out the fire. Sparks rise and sail,and shred the skywith smoke the colour of sheep. She watches ash swirl…
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10 September: A Haibun SOCS and RDP
The Water Back then, the village pond was for washing work horses. A few years ago someone put carp in there. And the pea soup came, a peculiar kind of dark downward vegetating mush and grass that pressed against the fish. It sucked the oxygen out the water. The carp floated to the surface like…
It's Still Life 