Tag: a.i.Art
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2701: dVerse Quadrille
The Yellows There was a timewhen time was everywhere.Autumn leaves meanttime for school,time for yellow pencils with rubber tips, and winter meanttime for rain coats,and tripping in yellow rubber bootstwo sizes too big —“Grow into them,” Mum said. Written for dVerse Poets Quadrille #240 (44 words including “Trip”). Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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2601: The Liturgy for the Watching People
Liturgy for the Window Vigil I. The Geometry of WitnessingA window is a frame.Not for art,but for the ordinary.We think we are looking out,but we are really looking in. Into the small, sudden theatre of endings.Where medics close a defibrillatorlike a book whose final lineno one wants to read aloud. II. Of DistanceWhat we see…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
Do Cats Know How to Swim?(Or A Torrential Tale in One Question) The rain has not stopped for two days.The patio is a shallow lake.The birdbath is a waterfall in revolt.And the cat — who is not hers, never hers, stares out as if the worldhas personally offended himwith its weather. Without turning,whiskers twitching at…
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2401: Senryu-Haiku
I. Senryuhe learns every wordbut not the sky’s wild grammarwe clip him with names Haikucaged in falling lighthis shadow flutters, silentwings remembering II. Senryuhe mimics our wordsbut says nothing of the cagewe built around him Haikurain veils the silenceon a branch, grey feathers dreamforest holds its breath Written for SenHai Saturday . Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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2401: Ceramic Truths
Ceramic Truths The sun is splitting the sky open.Night lifts,a spill of milk — dawn is like sleeping with the lights on. My mug; always this one.White, a black penny-farthing.Tivoli. Copenhagen.(Not Rome. Never been.Though I do like pasta.) The chip in the handlefits my thumb like a worry stone,a small devotion,a memory of the morningwhen…
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2201: MicroDosing 100 µg
He made this bench from an oak limb felled by lightning. Each plank cut and oiled by hand. It learned to read the curve of my spine. It knows the weight of thought. It was a July afternoon, heat spilling in from the continent, he found me in a gift of shade, he held two…
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1901: A Gogyohka Poem
A Gogyohka Poem Untitled last night’s snowstill holds the breathof those who never came home.my hand sinks in.its silence begins to burn. I will be herewaiting when the crocus return,and the snow drips like punctuationfrom my wrist. the crocus will risefrom a grave of ice,but I no longer flinchat the sting.I write spring in scars.…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Nocturnal Symphony (in 2 Acts of Chaos) ACT I: PHILOSOPHY AT 2 A.M.The cat stares into the dark garden,one paw pressed to the windowpane:“If a leaf falls in the night,and no one is around to blame me for it…did it truly fall?” ACT II: The Reply at 2:10 A.M.(The Old Woman shouts: “YES.”)…
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1401: dVerse Quadrille
Rainy Smile You ask why I am smiling.This grey dawnis its own kind of gift;the rain’s rhythmon the windowpane is a hymn I understand—the world,in its wet,patient way,offers itself to me again.And I say, yes,thank you. written for dVerse Poets Quadrille #239 “smile” , poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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1201: The Voice, A Six Liturgy
A Liturgy for the Hollow & the Heel The Invocation This is the hook on the polished stool,the calling of lacquered lightand murmuring ghosts. This is not emptiness,this is a chamber.The Bistro.The Stiletto.The Anchor.The Hook of the Night. The Invented Whisper. Of Anchors and Architecture This is sacred geometry.This is waiting.The black heel,the spike of…
It's Still Life 