Tag: a.i.Art
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25 May: The Liturgy for Accents
Part 11.2, Avignon, 1836: Liturgy for Accents That BetrayWhere the crowd turns on a syllable I. The Unforgivable DifferenceSometimes — it is how you say it. The foreign curl of a vowel,a rhythmlearned elsewhere. Brigid’s accent rises like smokeabove the herbs,the ointments like smoke from a fireno one sees. She asksfor chamomile,for arnica,for small remedies…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Conquers EuroVision(Or: A Feline Bid for Continental Glory) The cat sits before the TV,tail curled in concentration,watching a man in sequinssing something unidentifiablewhile a woman in a flying saucerplays the violin —or possibly weeps.It’s hard to tell. “Old Woman,” he says,“what is this Eurovisionand what is a Bulgaria?Is that a fish?Can we buy…
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23 May: 101 Word Palindrome
A Poet’s Mythology in 101 Words a crowkicks asidesummer clouds and divesinto the sky. wingshung by wind,touched by landscape. I am twelve, drawing crow sigilson my arm, my ink-black wing,a piercingfor the dark branchof my heart, conqueredby a crowthat desires speech. that was my childhood: my handsinside black nestsfull of pointed beaks, liftinga featherless nestlingback…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat and the Sardine Campaign(Or: This is How a Cat Conquers a Tin of Sardines, Miss Violet 😂) The cat sits in the middle of the kitchen floor,a tin of French sardines clutched between his paws. The good kind.The lemony kind. The kind the Old Woman hides on the top shelfbehind the oatmeal. He…
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20 May: Stream of Consciousness
A Stream of Consciousness on a Tuesday Afternoon Rain arrived exactly on cue today,like a polite actor entering stage left at the BBC’s command —three o’clock,said the weatherman,and at three o’clock the sky obliged for precisely five minutes,just enough to silver the windows,just enough to make the world smell briefly of wet pavement and leaves,just…
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19 May: dVerse Ekphrastics
Bride with a Fan She is made of hush —blue air, white petals,a face turned inwardas though listeningfor the vow before it is spoken. The veil does not hide her;it teaches light to soften.Even her silence seems paintedwith a tremor of winter sky. In her hand, the fan openslike a small, private weather,something between a…
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19 May: dVerse Dogs
Her Heart She will alwaysbe my last— last dog,last thought. Blind and deaf,I held herwhen the stroke came, felt her heartagainst the pulseinside my arms. She lefther shadowin my heart. Her namewas Molly. Written for dVerse Poets, Quadrille of 44-words about a dog. Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is authentically my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
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18 May: The Liturgy
Liturgy for the Burning of Iron(Sussex, 1838—where the poor refused to starve in silence) I. The Ledger of HungerEngland asked for more.Not more work —the labourers gave that already,their backs bent to the sickle,their hands calloused by the scythe,their winters surrenderedto a season that never paid its debts. England called for silence.For gratitude.For wages that…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Vertical Oppression(Or: Why the Good Stuff Is Always on the Top Shelf) The cat stands before the pantry,face like grievance,gazing up at the top shelfwhere the good sardinesgleam like a golden fleece. “Explain,” he says,“why the best fishare alwaysout of reach. Not impossible.Not mythical.Simply…up there. This is not accident.This is architecture.Oppression.” The Old…
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1105: The Liturgy
Episode 10: Liturgy for the Saturday Market Valence, 1836: Where hunger measures every stranger I. The Root The people of Valenceare rooted in hunger — missed meals,children whose ribslearn to count themselvesbefore they learn their letters. This hunger speaks.And calculates. Every loafa fraction.Every coina remainder.Every strangera divisor in an equationalready too tight. Hunger empties the…
It's Still Life 