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30.10: A Thursday Door
A Tanka Poem Crimson doors whisperIvy climbs weathered stone walls Silent anchor bends,History clings to shelter Green threads and old hope entwined For the visually impaired: This image shows the stone facade of a small outbuilding at the Château de Chenonceau, featuring an arched doorway and windows painted deep red, with ivy and greenery climbing…
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29.10: MicroDosing 60 µg
The Bone Orchard They don’t grow stones here in this bone orchard. They plant people. The soil is rich with silence, fed by stories. We tend the plots, not with water, but with memory. In spring, the only blossoms are the ones others bring. The only harvest is a name, whispered back by the wind.…
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28.10: A Six – The Book of 27
27 of 27: (De-Scribing) – a hollow gold once felt, not seen —(The unstitching and de-scribing of a binding) The Unstitching of The Book of 27 Felreil stands alone in the Scriptorium of Memory, the Book of 27 heavy as the ghost of a forgotten word, and gilded faintly with that hollow gold that glows…
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28.10: De-Scribing – The Liturgy
The 27th of 27 – The Unstitching and De-Scribing of the Bond The Liturgy for The De-Scribing — The Book of 27(as written by Felreil) I.The body’s lanterns dim,and yet we see. We seewith the soles of the feetthat know the coldof monastery stone. We seewith the palms that rememberthe weight of a crow’s feather.…
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28.10: A Six – The Book of 27
The 26th Glyph of 27 — Bellhollow – A return mistaken for grace At the Intersection Named after an English King and a Saint The Pull Back — Return to a Mad World The brass key warms in her hand, its bow pressing deep into her palm like a vow; Brigid slips the blade into…
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27.10: Bellhollow – The Liturgy
The 26th or 27th Glyph · Liturgy for Bellhollow, (from The Book of 27 – Emptiness Mistaken for Grace) I. The Sound of Emptiness It begins not as silence,but as sound’s echo —the hum in a glass bowl after the strike,the vibrationin a bell that holds no clapper. Bellhollowis the note that lingersafter the singer…
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27.10: Black on White
The Striped One, Who Is Both This isthe light and dark of it. You stand in the thresholdwhere dust meets breath,where sky calls to you, you — who wear the herd’s mark,light of consciousnessin your serene gaze. The light sees you.The light wants you. Sacred is the patternthat binds all things, black stripe of shadow,white…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Considers Ownership The Old Woman watches the cat— that cat, the one who pacesher kitchen like a landlordcollecting rent in broken sleepand half-remembered dreams — and she says, soft as dust:“Perhaps you are mine,in the way the wind owns the sigh,or the crow owns that stolen spoonhe buried near the mugwort.” The…
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26.10: SenHai #23
Senryu: two old souls watchingthe moon pour its golden dream.a shared, silent wish. Haiku: a moon’s veil fallspours light over the cliff’s edgenight drinks golden dawn. Senryu: two souls at the edgemoonlight spills their held breath loose,they forget to speak. Haiku: moon’s river falling,night drinks the silver current,stars tremble awake. Senryu: lovers lean, unmovedas if…
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25.10: Journal of Thoughts
Of Poets Dead and Gone while I slept in my chair,my dream, waking my horse, although I’ve noneand never will, nevertheless, it woke, and we rode down a rocky lanewhere stood the souls of poets dead; and gone, and one who seemed of marble,who stood as any might alive —rain falling thickand clinging to her…
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