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The Winter People
THE WINTER PEOPLE This is winter’s astrophe. We’re stuck in a black and white fogbreathing thin air, breathing in a writer’s ache on blank sheets of white paper. It’s a silent semaphorelanguage that reducesthe sun to a small white stone. It’s…
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Published on Visual Verse Anthology
28 December: What a lovely way to close out this year’s submissions. Visual Verse Anthology published one of my ekphrastic poems today. Many thanks to their editorial staff for supporting my work. The poem may be read at A Stone Horse or Visual Verse Anthology.
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Falling Back on Miz Quickly: The Table
THE TABLE (in three parts) … that meal of polenta filled tamales, that New Years dinner in Colombia when I had flu, fever, and a gnashing headache. that meal I couldn’t face, couldn’t eat it. I was so embarrassed. apologetic. for three days, she prepared that meal. she looked so sad when I left the…
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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,…
