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for VV February 2021
I Am Adrift … And just want to un-write what was just sent, and thinking,Isn’t there an I-take-it-back emoji. Andwhere’s the Undo? Oh, if pigs, all pink andsquealing could fly, we’d all be in the clouds. Hiding. Funny, how silence can be a flared-throat.Hissing.How it can throw you off a cliff. Silence,and her mystery was…
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Miz Quickly’s Yellow
Her Long Finger Is . . . sunrise, a clawing light,trophy of grim and hardenedwarriors. Silent gold, a lightand stinging slash,a shot, a cut across a harlot’s skythat slaughters night. In her hand, tucked behindher back, she holdsnoisy heat. It rises with the multitudes,she throws her swordbehind the march of men.She is the long finger,the…
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for Miz Quickly’s American Dance #1
A Dance Into the Well Beyond We’ll dance over the sun,amongst the weeds and red dust, dance with the backdoor hangingon one hinge. We’ll dance light as a butterfly’s wing.Dance our way into a sunset’s throat. A beat on our senses,that drum-tap,plucked like a strut,skirts in a twirl,hand-fanning music,feet feathering the beat. We’ll dance amongst…
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Hunters in the Snow: A Bird on a Limb
A Bird on a Limb in Hunters in the Snow A bird, the colour of old paint,sings a rusty-hinge tune. Skips a note.Its song has a sticky piano key. The air waits.No reply. No chorus. No riff. There’s a sniff of change in the air.Or is it the bird’s ab lib… A bird, the colour…
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Netherlandish Proverbs: The Man with the Fake Beard
The Crutch In a thirst for a god,we fell in with a manwearing a fake beard. He was a crutch in the corner.A dark sycamore.He was horizon bound. He played the crowd, and then turned his attention on the universe. Ekphrastic poetry. Image P. Bruegel Netherlandish Proverbs cc:00 © Misky 2021
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For Twiglet #211
“Airless and unloved, in the dank basementof the mind” L. Igloria ~ A Reparation If a Puddle Was a Day of the Week, It Would be a Tuesday It’s Tuesday.It’s raining. I took my coffeeback to bed. My grandmother made coffee from rainwater.Dad refused to drink it. Feared he’d swallowa mouthful of amoebae and a…
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dVerse Quadrille #119
The Dogs of Hunters In The Snow Dogs lead the way in this cold otherworld.Stray to scents, and footprints in snow.Paws dancing dense and cold to frost clear tunes.Iced twigs.Clings to limbs.Same sameness laying a tapestry of white. There’s no sensible heatin this featureless light. dVerse Quadrille #119 “way”. Image…
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23 January 2021: Ekphrastic
Too Early First crocus.Bright as a struck match.A blinded flamein the frost, and robbedof its thin white dress. Wikiart Hope of a Condemned Man III, 1974 by Joan Miró. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter © Misky 2021
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22 January 2021
When We Were Young We’d runand ride the leaves, sing duetswith the breeze. We were luck, likeleprechaun green, and no thief of timeever intervened. Ekphrastic Poetry shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter © Misky 2021
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dVerse Prosery
Sometimes Sometimes weather flings itself in a tantrum at my feet. Such wild abandon in its reach. And sometimes I am lost in my own deep stare. Deep in the face of angry clouds that flood my sight, deep in rain punctuating the ground with broad, cursive raindrops. Sometimes the great bones of my life…
It's Still Life 