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Day 8: Poem-a-Day Challenge
To Crave Milk Tea at 3 o’Clock (A Love Poem to Hong Kong) sidewalks breathe us in—hot, wet, loud,a chaos that flows, a crush of sleevesthrough humid air, a mortal hungerlifting night to day. the city lives—it heaves against the harbour. neon signs,tram bells ring—hush, hush, hushing tides.you learn to swim in it, let your…
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11.04: Ten Things of Thankful
Ten Things of Thankful (with a nod to near-rhyme and brevity) For my fishmonger in Eastbourne—fresh from the boat, cold catch, bold brine, day’s silver smoked. For a hunger to learn, wide-eyed and deep, books in a stack, and barely sleep. For the season’s turn—my apple trees flush, green in the breeze, sap in a…
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10 April: A Thursday Door
The soul of this quiet Dijon street lives in its weathered walls—cracked beige plaster, rough wooden shutters closed like sleepy eyes, and a low, warped door that has whispered secrets for centuries. The past lingers in the faded blue sign honoring a long-gone mayor, while brown arrows point the way to grand palaces and museums,…
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09.04: The Garden of Ordinary Apocalypses
The Garden of Ordinary Apocalypses “The Old Woman Wakes the Crow”(an ekphrastic poem after Caspar David Friedrich’s painting “The Tree of Crows/Raven Tree,”) The crow’s nightmare was this:a tree split open like a ribcage,its branches—vertebrae of dusk,its roots clutching a bellthat only rings for roots. “Hush,” says the old woman,peeling a lychee with her knife.“You’ve…
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9.04: A Six – The Book of 27
Prologue (or Before) Prologue (or simply: Before) No one remembers the First Colour. Before red bled into battle and blue sank into sorrow; before green curled into envy and gold haunted itself with greed, there was only one—a colour not seen, but felt. It was whole, unnamed—and when the world cracked, when truth was broken…
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9.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
The Old Woman Hangs the Moon the stairs creak louder nowthat she’s stopped counting them.“one less thing,” she tells the dust,“to weigh the pockets.” her mirror fogs with tea steam—a kindness. she scrapes her reflectionclean with a knife, hums:“all this light, and no oneto blind.” the neighbours whisper:“she used to keep cats—”“no, it was a…
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8.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
Two Versions of the Same Poem I.The God of Small Annoyances The wind bitesits lip— a wisptoo thin to fold and the stormspills— thunder cracking itsknuckles like the Godof SmallAnnoyances The sky stiffensit won’tslump into rain— it just humselectric, and raw— a wirestripped of itssong. II.The God of Small Annoyances the wind bites its lip—a…
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8.04: A Six of Ordinary Apocalypses
The Garden of Ordinary Apocalypses (A Six Sentence Story) The Old Woman with No Cat Finds The Aleph The old woman with no cathaunts the edge of myth with a crow that’s black as an obsidianpsalm. “Look closer,” rasps the crow,“your spade’s a universe,a cellar of light—your spadeisaxis mundi.” She digs, and a worm curls—not…
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7.04: A Six – The Epilogue
Beyond an Intersection Named After an English King and a SaintSix Sentence Story: Day 27 Epilogue: The Well of the World’s End Here in the Glen of Weeping near Loch Lomond lies a vein in the land’s skin—here I stand beside the ancient Well of the World’s End, the portal to the Otherworld—Tobar Ceann an…
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7.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
The Birdbath Aleph the old woman with no catrefills the birdbath. it’s half-rusted,and holds all the waterand thirst of the sky. a single featherfloats like a commain god’s draftof the world. the cat is a cosmic overlord, watching. “The ocean,” he marvels,“is just a birdbathfor baptisingfragments of heaven.” PAD (Poem-a-Day Challenge) Day 6 with Prompt:…
It's Still Life 