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17.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
About The Old Woman Without a Cat The Old Woman Receives Three Cheers(A Kitchen Liturgy) the old womancatches her wordsin her cupped palms— a warmthshe can’t quite name,like finding a forgotten cookiein the pocketof last winter’s coat. the neighbor’s cat(now a licensed emotion translator)purrs the messageinto Morse code: dot dot dash—you. matter. comma. the crow,ever…
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15.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
Sestina for the Cliffs at Beachy Head Here, where the chalk cliffs meet the endless blue,I walk to shed the weight of thought, to standlike wind-struck grass—alive, yet barely touched.The lighthouse spins its scarlet warning—brightagainst the tide’s slow gnaw, the edge’s creed:what falls—will rise again in salt and light. No prayer but this: the gulls’…
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15.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman’s Onions and The Last Supper I. THE KNIFE’S CONFESSIONthe old woman knowsthe knife’s dull protest,the way timesoftenseven the sharpestedges. II. THE PAN’S TESTIMONYthe onions sizzle,a soundlike whispering. the cast ironremembersevery mealit’s ever murdered— now it sighs,licks its own scars,and calls the old womanyes chef. she stirs the onionsslowly,as if tendernesscan be cookedinto…
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15.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
V.And the Forest Takes You Back Again your heart was never mine—only borrowed by the light,by the resin’s golden cursive,by the leaf that turned its faceto your breath and whispered, i remember how you taste. take this with you:the way shadows lick your faceas you step onto the path home.how the air, thick with green,loosens…
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14.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
IV.The Grammar of the Forest the air tastes—of green penniesand the ghost of last night’s rain,of split cedarand the slow dissolve of light on wet bark. breathe deep: your tongue learns a new alphabet. moss is a vowel here,pine resin a consonant—sticky as unspoken truth.even your teeth feel it—cool as river stones,humming with chlorophyll. tilt…
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14.04: A Six – The Book of 27
1 of 27: Veilwake(Six sentences. One soul. A Colour once felt, not seen. A shard of the First Colour: Veilwake.) 1 of 27: Veilwake Felreil walks where no wind speaks, and none dare follow, across a lunar-dry flatland that once dreamed of being sea but woke as salt-cracked stone—and when the black cloud drags its…
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13.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
Old Woman Explains “Full” to the Cat The cat parades in,feathers stuck to its grin like party confetti,the robin’s tail danglinglike an unpunctuated sentence. Drop it, says the old woman.The cat blinks, Make me. So she tries philosophy:“Full is when your belly is a bowl,and your soul stops licking the spoon.” The cat licks a…
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13.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
III. How the Forest Gathers You listen—a single leaf, parchment-thin,twists on its stem like a keyin a lock you can’t see. it clicks open the breeze,and suddenly the whole canopyis whispering in code. feel—the light doesn’t fall here; it clings—to your arms like warm honey,to the creases of your sleeves,even to your eyelashes,until you blink—slow—and…
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12.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
II.It Remembers touchthe cold bark. warm resin underneath—thick as a century’s worthof swallowed thunder. the tree does not speak.it remembers. press your earto its black veinsand hear the humof a thousand moons pumping like slow syrupup the spineof the world. this is where time folds: the mist at your kneesis the same mistthat once lickedthe…
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12.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
Nature: Poem 1 or 4 I. To Stitch the Sky Green Here, the treespress close, and you’ll heara thousand summersstored in their veins. The leaves stitch to the skyso thickthe sun must thread itself,needle-fine,through every gap—every golden yarn. Breathe—the air is deep with scentsof damp soil,petrichor,and unfinished stories.Quiet—between notesas the wind listens. This is where…
It's Still Life 