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3103: Six Sentence Story
Brigid’s Diary: Part 06, Lyon First Motion on the Rhône Steamboat The steamboat did not startle me; it announced itself, breath thick with coal, pistons beating like a heart forced into discipline, smoke writing its claim across the Rhône as though the river had been waiting to be corrected. I watched the paddle bite water…
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3103: The Hinge
The Hinge That Forgot Its Door A hinge without a doorstill turns, not freely,not fully,but enough to remember. Two plates,a pin worn thin,holding to a purposethat no longer exists. It opens into nothing. Again.Again. A motion rehearsedlong after the meaninghas gone. Wind finds itand it answers,a small, obedient shudder, as if something unseenstill passes through,as…
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3003: The Six Liturgy
Liturgy for the Paddle Wheel — where old and new collide I. The Animal of Iron and BreathIt came up the Rhône like a great beast learning to speak.Pistons for lungs, smoke for voice,paddle wheels striking the waterwith the rhythm of a heart that never tires. We stood on the bank and watched it approach,this…
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3003: Spring Journal
She Walks the Fair She walks the fair, a carousel’s brass musictugging at her sleeve, buys a daffodilfrom a man with kind hands, watches a child spinuntil the world goes loose. The scent of frying dough,cinnamon and sugar,the squeak of a wheel, a stranger’s laughthat sounds like her own. She carries a paper coneof warm…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Studies Tai Chi(Or: The Slow-Motion Pounce) The Old Woman finds himin the middle of the sitting room rug,moving with a slowness usually reservedfor glaciers or drying paint. One paw lifts,hovers,descends—as if placing it on the very heartbeat of the earth. “What,” she asks,“are you doing?” He does not look up.“Tai Chi walking.It is…
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2803: Journal of SenHai
Senryustriped brushstrokes blendin the closeness of bodies,fear loses its shape Haikustriped bodies entwinethe plain hums with quiet watch,safer together Written for Saturday SenHai image prompt. Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is authentically my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
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Ten Things of Thankful
I. Blackthorn is in full bloom, and that means spring — except the temperatures plummeted again into overnight single digits. I’m thankful that thermal-wear isn’t needed again — it’s all packed away. II. My crow, who’s not really my crow, left me what appears to be a chicken bone this morning. Be thankful it isn’t…
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2803: Journal of Thoughts
“…to find the smallest fragment and silence all around it until its voice fills your ears…” — M. I.The Smallest Fragment First, find the shard,a cracked bell,a half-buried word. Then build silence around it. Wait.Do not reach.Let it remember itself. Now listen.It will not shout. It will humnot with what was lost,with what remains true.…
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Witnesses
a collection of moments: nothing grand or forced. just soft, slightly askew truths of ordinary days — witnessed 27 March 2026: 06:43 Two pigeons. A sharp rap to the skull,feathers drifting.Love’s old, foolish arithmetic. © MB 2026
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2603: Spring Thoughts
Blackthorn wearsits snow as spring,each blossoma small, white still. And the scent …oh, the scent sharp as grief,and sweet as memoryriding the same windthat carries the news. Some images are a collaboration with Midjourney; all writing is my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
It's Still Life 