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7 August: A Sailing Tanka
A Sinking Star Me and this sea realm,and a fickle wind sneezingagainst the sailslike the Hesperus intofistfuls of dark inked water A tanka 31-syllables (5.7.5.7.7). Written for Poetic Bloomings “sailing”. Image from Unsplash. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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5 August: Twiglet 290
On the Hottest Day of the Year It’s round as a melonor my shoulders.Feels ancient in my hands.Long enduring as that winterfour years ago.A snowball –we keep it in the freezer.Strong as a rock andlight as wind through a dream.And we take it out, and oooooh and ahhhh over it,like I said,on the hottest day…
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4 August: For the Petite Pen
It’s Just After Dawn When a person can be reborn by the shine and glimmer of it all. The sea.The bluff.Seagulls and terns.Thistles and grass. A blue-veined smear of waterrounds on the middle deep, daybreak lifting and lighteningthe water, the cliffs scrawled by wind. And on the ridge above the beachnext to an August-hardened dirt…
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2 August: VV Anthology
Ten Minutes on the Central Line (445 words, 2min:53sec read) I’m always amused when someone offers me their seat. On a good day, it’s easy to forget that I’m old. Why would I do that, I said to my doctor when he asked, Don’t you ever look in the mirror? I decline the offer of…
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1 August: Wordle #563
The Other One She spent her final years in an asylum,running up and down the hallwaywith her tits bouncing off her knees . . . according to Dad who really never had a kind word to say about his mother. But some things stick in your head whenyou’re young,…
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1 August: Last Photo of the Month
Two summer fruit pavlovas that I made for a friend’s birthday. for Bushboy’s Last Photo of the Month ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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31 July: #socs Wash
I just read a full page article in The Sunday Telegraph about how to wash Birkenstocks. I don’t own a pair of Birkenstocks, so why I read it … I don’t know. I tried a pair on once, and it was like sliding my foot into a brick. Birkenstocks have cork soles – I didn’t…
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30 July: It’s Called Austice
Austice I sit amongst the crisp fringes of leaves,the trees are giving way to autumn. There used to be jasmine here, butwe dug it up after it knocked the fence down. And there used to be grass up to the door.But by July it was always straw. It’s a patio now, a table and four…
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30 July: for Twiglet #289
This Heat …. is the start of a slide.Those low notes of rain, like railcars rusting on the sidings. Forgottencurse of ever earlier dusk. Lights on,drapes pulled. Wet-dog smellsoaked in the weave. Our appetiteswant for thickand fat puddings. One that holds a spoon erect. Autumn is a lean-faced woman,raking leaves leaves and leaves as the…
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29 July: An Erasure Poem
Burnt He was left on the beach.Legs sunburn. Red blotches.Thighs. His feet. He pushed a fingerinto his thigh. It turned stark white,then angry red. The sun rolled whiteon the sand. Wikiart. image Ulysses by Milton Resnick, 1991. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Text sourced from Jaws, by Benchley, Peter. Digital Jaws. Pub. Pan…
