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16 July: A Six – The Book of 27
14 of 27: Driftspire – a Colour once felt, not seen—The Joy of Being Completely Unknown 16 July – Lindisfarne: Holy Island, Northumberland – low tide, salt breath, sheep for company PART 1: (6 Sentences) 14 of 27 — Driftspire: The Joy of Being Completely Unknown The North Sea sleeps at low tide, and Brigid…
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15 July: Driftspire – The Liturgy
14 of 27 Driftspire – The Poem – The joy of being completely unknown 14 of 27 – The Liturgy of Driftspire I. The UnbuttoningNo name.No story.Just the hushof fog dissolving the edges of memory. Here, you shrug off the coat of who you wereand let it pool at your feet—a puddle of forgotten pronouns.Step…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
A Trilogy of Feline Digital Disasters (Because cats—love chaos) I. TUTORIAL HELLScene: The cat is perched in front of a laptop, watching “Crunchy Tuna Unboxing” videos. CAT (squinting) “This is research.”OLD WOMAN “It’s been six hours.”CAT “Silence, woman. I’m cultivating my aesthetic.” (Off-screen, the crow livestreams the whole affair.) CROW (voiceover)“Day 1: ‘Artist’ has forgotten…
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15 July: Journal of Thoughts
The Wind that Carries Him She gave him roots.She gave him wings.Gave her bones quietto rememberhow much growing costs. Forget-me-nots, bright as sky —be in my heart.Bluebells for your kindness,lavender for your calm,hydrangea to returnwhat love never asks back. She gave her tears permission—not to break,but to blessthe wind that carries him. Some artwork is…
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14 July: Journal of Thoughts
The Leaving All the signs are there.Shoes on.Backpack zipped and closed. Bottle of water chilling in the freezer. But this isn’t Monday.This is Friday.He’s meeting a friend in London. For dinner.A beer or three.A steak maybe. Says he’ll be back before midnight —Can you pick me up at the station?And of course I will. But…
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11 July: Ten Things of Thankful
In absolutely no numerical order: II. A very long, quiet walk in the forest with John, my youngest son, who’s visiting until Monday, and then back home to Bogotá. He knows the value of listening through silence. It’s possibly the most valuable lesson he learned from me. Well, that — and I taught him to…
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11 July: A Thursday Door
A Tanka Poem for an Old Stable Door Old stable door standsWeathered wood, sun-bleached and wornWild herbs hang in shadeWhispers of hooves long silent Summer drifts through open space Bushboy (Brian Dodd) shares photos of doors, but not just any doors. Spectacular doors from his journeys. Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the door on this. I love doors…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and Pandora’s Cat (part 1) An ancient leather-bound box arrives — Pandora’s scrawled across the lid in ink. Inside: a tiny meow. Whiskers twitch, a kitten, ink-black, curled around hope as if a secret, and the old woman laughs, lifts it — all warm, trembling — and then the hissing begins. From…
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9 July: A Six Sentence Story
13 of 27 – Stillrift: Peace Earned from Ruin Let It Become Weather It didn’t feel like peace when it came—just the absence of argument, like a room forgetting your name. That night, Felreil appeared as a crow on the footboard of Brigid’s bed, dropping black stones onto her feet—each one etched with a word…
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7 July: Stillrift – The Liturgy
13 of 27: Stillrift — The Liturgy Poem: Peace Earned from Ruin Let It Become Weather I. The ArrivalNo trumpet. No epiphany.Just the click of a lock after the last word leaves—a silence so thick it tastes like blindness,as dust settles into somethinglike horizon.The wound scabs.Stillrift arrives when the itch fadesinto the patience of scars.…
It's Still Life 