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1308: The Colour of Elsewhere
The Colour of Elsewhere — Poems from the Periphery North — II — 10 July: Osnabrück to Bov, Denmark they flash their yellows,sunflowersin the hedgerows. a young forest,wind and branches,open,close,like a loose hinged door. smooth, he says with extra ooooos.it’s a Santana road, I say. our tyressweep cleanthe Autobahn. a favourite playlist.euphoriasets inat molecular level.…
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1208: The Colour of Elsewhere
The Colour of Elsewhere — Poems from the Periphery Leaving — I — 5 July: Periphery People thinkI still see the tree.I don’t — not like before. I see a crow arrive with its voice.Tyres tell me where the road is. Silence isn’t empty.It’s the placewhere the birdsused to be. The world arrivesin pieces. A…
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1108: The Colour of Elsewhere
The Colour of Elsewhere — Poems from the Periphery North Tomorrow I’m beginning something a little different here. Last month, on the road north to Denmark and Sweden and home again, I wrote what I saw from the periphery: roads, fields, people, weather, family, things overheard and things passed too quickly to understand. The poems…
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1108: Dead Men Don’t Drown
Dead Men Don’t Drown Episode #2 Three months ago this cottage still listened to my grandmother; now it belongs to me, though at times it feels like arriving halfway through a conversation she started with the walls some eighty years ago. I’ve learnt the house wakes early, long before I’ve slept enough, but I manage…
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1008: The Liturgy #2
Liturgy for the Inherited Weight(for those who must sort through the past) I. The Objects That Remember Every object in this house carries a memory,one we pressed into itwith our hands, our habits,our refusal to let go. The chipped mug she dropped at seven,her grandmother kept using,as if the crack were not a flawbut a…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat On Lavender(Or: A Feline Critique of Sanitary Accommodations) The Old Woman kneels in the evening light,gloved hands pressing soilinto a glorious blue-glazed pot,the scent of lavenderrising like a prayer. The cat sits beside her,tail curled neatly around his paws,observing the air,a discerning criticat a garden show. “So much better,” he says,“than the dusty…
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0808: Journal of SenHai
Senryu we are small, brief guests,the mountain thinks nothing ofour human hurry. Haiku blue lake takes the skysnow peaks drift in cold silenceat the edge of ice Written for SenHai Saturday: #64 Not all images are created with Midjourney, but all writing is my own original work. ©Misky 2006-2026.
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Ten Things of Thankful
I am thankful for a moment of quiet by myself on the patio, with a cup of coffee, listening to bird song, bees humming in the roses, and then … … noticing that I am being watched by a very curious grey squirrel. I love it when the morning comes together like this — easy…
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0708: Everywhere Poems
Beech (in Six Movements) I.under a beech treelook up and understandwhy forests are shrines beneath its green roof,you are never small.you are welcomed. II.before bells marked hours,before churches reached every village,people looked to placeswhere the world breathed deeply. a tree was enough. standing beneath its green,you do not feel small.you feel remembered,as though Earth itselfstill…
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0608: Jimmy Barglefloop
The Legend of Jimmy Barglefloop a six sentence story Everyone assumed Jimmy Barglefloop carried a magnifying glass to search for rare things, but when someone asked, “What do you do all day!” he slipped a smiled into his reply, “I just notice stuff.” All day he wandered marshes enlarging dew on spider silk, warts on…
It's Still Life 