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The Man Who Sits on a Step at the Duck Pond
The Man Who Sits on a Step at the Duck Pond I’ve yet to see that man smile, a faceset like thick-sawn wood. He movesonly rarely so as to not appear dead. He says everything in this little townis one of two things – either alive ordead. Yet he’s never happier in life than when…
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Occhiolism: On Feeling Small
Occhiolism: On Feeling Small how many birds are in that song.is it one ortwo.does is takemorefor their waterlogged notesto break throughrain. how many shades of green makegrass.is it one ortwo.does it takemore for mossfor leaf-filtered green to reachthe colourblack. those birdswith their sibilant song,as if they’returningand turningthe pages of a book.I think birds see the…
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Two Elevenie Poems
Two Elevenie Poems SnowWindswept fieldsBlindsiding the skyYesterday in a snowbankBuried BuriedInto depthsWhite scrubbed whiteAlleys of bowing birchWait Poem form: Elevenie. Click thumbnail for constraints. © Misky 2021. Image is from Unsplash.
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#SoCS A Stream of Consciousness: Chickens
23 December 2021: Even if it’s naked, you can tell a chicken from a duck, even under all their feathers, they’re all and entirely chicken. All those relevant bones, recognisable remains, every scrap, always recognisable as a chicken, not a duck. Poor deliveryman. Embarrassed by it all. Said there hasn’t been a duck in the…
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Your Secret Language
Your Secret Language It’s winter male?I don’t know but it tastes like pineand snowand the sharp bite of an apple. It moves in,and then pulls you closer,roots around in your ruins and teaches you itssecret language so you’reunable to make sense of yourself, or anyone else.Is winter male?Yes. Probably. ©Misky 2021
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A Bit Of Wizardry
He Says He’s Going to be a Wizard It’s just a bit of havoc,a boy with a wizard kit. No, your sister didn’t vanishwhen you lit 3 twigs, or burnt toenail clippings in a sack.And now you’re breathing in snips of smoke, hopingfor the gift of future sight. And, no, your sister’stoenails didn’t fall off,…
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Ekphrastic: Saint on the Half-Hinged Shingle
The Half-Hinged Shingle in Hunters in the Snow He’s a saint, and dances like a tree frog, heedless merriment as it’s raining on his head, and the cold mist always riseslike morning prayers to heaven. His is a small story of simple words, drawn on an half-hinged shingleabove the tavern door. He’s a godly soul,…
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A Stroll and a Bitch
A Stroll and A Bitch It’s back to the Victorian era.We meet up with friendsfor a “Covid-safe” stroll and a bitch about everything. I’m singing at a funeral tomorrow, she says, and can you believe it, my kid is 2-years old today. Two years locked down with a baby. I can’t breathe if I think…
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Miz Quickly’s Titles: Eagle
There’s an Eagle Sitting on the Marlboro Sign I’m at a loss with all these signs.I need some Left Right signs.This Way Up. Down. Yes. No. I always think: what would Dad do. I still talk to you, you know,like you’re a fixed star,still governing my lifeand direction. And yes, that’s me occasionallyscreaming at the…
It's Still Life 