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16.10: dVerse Headless
A Steed’s Lament in Sleepy Hollow They call me omen, call me curse,a shadow-mare to haul the headless hearse.He grips my flanks with knees of bone,and rides me through the mourner’s moan. I toss my mane — he cannot see.I choose the path — what use is he?I’ve borne the weight of sin and dread,but…
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15.10: MicroDosing 50 µg
Paint It Black He didn’t paint the void; he painted its memory. Like hollows left when a star collapses. Or silence after a string snaps. The shape of breath frozen midair. He mixed not pigment, but absence — until the canvas was but a door. And from the other side, something began to knock. Written…
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14.10: A Six – The Book of 27
23 of 27 — Wraithborne: A Glance Mistaken for Something Else The Taste of Almost Brigid notices the smudge first — a violet-ash on her teacup’s rim, still warm, the shape of a thumbprint, the weight of an unfinished thought — and this would mean nothing, except she lives alone, and has done for many…
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13.10: Wraithborne – The Liturgy
23 of 27 – Wraithborne: A glance mistaken for something else The Liturgy for Wraithborne I. The GlanceNot a ghost — just time’s stutter,a flicker where the light bends wrongand suddenly, you’re staringat a face you almost lovedin a life you almost lived.Wraithborne grins.You blink.The crow swallows the evidence. II. Its ColourAsh-lit violet is the…
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13 Oct: The Key
The Key That soundof the lock surrendering.Of ancient fingersfinally answering. I am the keeperof the lock.Of its click.The finder of its form in its beautiful chaos.I keep turning the keys.I keep listeningfor the locks to click. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.
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12 Oct: The Forgiveness of Stones
The Forgiveness of Stones Senryu The light reaches down —a blue forgiveness for allthe stones we carry. Haiku Sunlight on cold stone,drifting through silent blue hymns —the sea’s breathing glass. Written for SenHai Saturday I Write Her senyru and haiku. poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025. Image from Unsplash
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11 Oct: Ten Things of Thankful
Thankful that my bruised elbow is healing — I can finally bend it enough for my hand to touch my shoulder. Grateful that my Covid and winter flu jabs didn’t sting like wasps. Thankful for the cosy warmth of woolly jumpers again. For bedlinen dried outside in the sunshine — it smells as sweet as…
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10.10: A Thursday Door
stone hushes the wind —red doors part for shadowed stepsthat never looked back. green waits at the end —time drips through a stone-lined throat,measured by the sun. Linked Senryū poems. Photo was taken at Château de Chenonceau, Loire Valley, France. Bushboy (Brian Dodd) shares photos of doors, but not just any doors. Spectacular doors from his…
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10.10: The Last Clear Map
To Avignon: The Last Clear Map 28 September (waiting in ferry queue at Newhaven)I.maps dream in the gloveboxthe sunrise is our compassour clocks are made of salt II.the sea pulls at usaway from white cliffs writinglove letters in chalk 29 SeptemberI.journey’s labyrinth —coins, a prayer, the bells ring,my soul leaves, fed by light. 30 SeptemberI.black…
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9.10: Thundershade – The Liturgy
22 of 27 · Liturgy for the Unseen Sky I. The Unseen We knew the sky existednot because we saw its blue,its vastness,its sea of stars —but because we heard the storm. We felt its breath upon our faces,cold and electric.We heard its voicein the groan of the pines,the shudder of the shutters,the long, low…
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