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11.02.22: Twiglet #265
The Moon was never meantto take the night alone. Stars drift through the shallowsof its black plate, and the air soft as the back of thighs,and dark as a square of night. And the moonturned its face away, and stared deep into earth’s mirrored water,waves turning like pages. For Twiglet #265 “turning pages””. WikiArt Image: Noekken, 1904, by…
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10.02.22: dVerse Quadrille
A View From a Window The kitchen windowoverlooked rosebushesthat nibbled at a lattice frame,until a galeblew the whole thing down,and afterwardswe walked the beach,the sea hurling rocks at our feet,and we brought some home,set them where the rosebushesused to grow. Written for dVerse Poets. Quadrille “nibble”. Image WikiArt: Winter view from our kitchen window in Domobranska 8,…
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9.02.22: Thames Walk
SE1 Thames Walk: This city is my familiar. Its lights falling in twinkling pieces across the bridge and through the rain. Side streets. Alleys with ancient names. The sound of my footfall joins the river’s echoes — clattering dishes, cutlery, table-talk, riverside cafés. A couple want a romantic photo, asking politely. He hands me his…
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8.02.22 Line-Spectra
An Odd Line-Spectra The wind has no steady direction today. Atoms bouncing about on a line-spectra. Leaves and debris in an orange orbit; a white dog chasing its tail. Everything is cyclonic-yellow. Even my thoughts. It’s like an itch. The sting of anxiety. The wind jumping at the trees, as they’re heaving off frost and…
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V.1 C.2 Fractionals
Originally posted on That's No Way to Wash a Dragon: https://foundlines.files.wordpress.com/2022/02/teacherstudent-1.jpeg Quarters, Mum says, are fourths. It’s apples again. Mum takes two pieces and starts eating one … and asks, So how many pieces of our apple do you have. I say, Two pieces. She nods, What do you call that, in fraction language. And…
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7.02.22: Gargoyle
Supermarket Gargoyles Right next to the anti-viralhand gel by the automaticopening doors, standsan elderly security guard. He’s a poker faced manin a buttoned-up uniform,and a shirt bleached whiteand starch-stiffened. Dressed like that, I expecthim to do something whenmy shopping trolly sets offthe security alarm, but no, he just stands there, grim as cold porridge, stony…
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GoDogGo Café: Names of Light
I Still Know That House When I was a kid … and oh how I do shirk from that phrase. My mother used it whenever she set herself on a pedestal, but anyway when I was a kid I lived in a house at the end of a close, which is like a cul-de-sac, or…
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5.02.22 Stream of Consciousness Saturday #socs
A Little Night Music The clock’s ticking toward midnight,and it ticks forward and forwardand still forward morelike some shimmering starsending signals to the moon, and time is a minute longand eighty-nine years wide,and another pageof someone’s past is writteninto this colour-blind night. Stream of Consciousness Saturday “Pages” Image February Frost by William Ogilvie. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting…
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Twiglet #264
A Still Life of a Winter’s Night The fireplace is lit, its flamedancing with the surfaceof the window. A candlestiff and still on the table, with the last heel from a loaf,dried onions and cheesewith a sip of sweet wine. No need to whisper thatthe cupboard is bare, orthat the empty knocking isnot the beat…
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4.02.22: The Russian Girl
The Russian Girl at the Duck Pond There’s too much looking on bright side, she says. She has rod-straight black hair and a Russian accent that makes me nostalgic for Rocky the Flying Squirrel, and Boris and Natasha – not everything was bleak and fatalistic during the Cold War. And she says, lots of people,…
