Tag: a.i.Art
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31 Aug: MicroDosing 90µg
Passing Days The days bled together,like watercolour sagging in the rain.She tried to tack them down —a mug’s steam,the slant of three o’clock light —but they wriggled free,slippery as minnows. What lingered was only sensation:a Tuesday’s ghosted-warmth,a Thursday’s pale chill.And the uneasy thoughtthat time was being smuggled forward,hand to hand,like contraband in plain sight —precious,…
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29 Aug: II. The Painter
II. The Painter (A Six Sentence Poem) Into the paint —the brush, blind-eyed.His shoulder tenses:a memoryof a burdennot yet carried. The bristles sweep —a long, aching curve of roadbeneath a skyhe’s never seen. It is longing.It is goodbyeto someonehe has not yet met. He steps back, opens his eyes —there it is: his future, peggedand…
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27 Aug: Where You From, Then?
Where Are You From Then? Aura — Episode One (A Six Sentence Story) Päiviö Clartz had lived above the Co-op for three winters, long enough for most people to forget he wasn’t from here — except when he spoke, or cooked fish in the mornings, or wore that thick Nordic jumper with snowflake shoulders and…
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26 Aug: dVerse Quadrille
Tumultus Mus Musculus (44-Word Quadrille) The mice throw a rumpus —wearing tiny top hats,and drinking whiskey from thimbles.They’re spinning a walnut, and waltzing on tables. But —are those cat’s eyesgleaming like diamondsthrough keyholes? Dance on, my darlings.Dawn wants to steal your shoes. Kim invites us at dVerse Poets to write a Quadrille #230 about a “rumpus” Some…
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26 Aug: Aura’s Introduction
Introducing Aura A new Six Sentence Story series told through the wind’s own voice starts tomorrow. Aura is the breeze that stirs laundry on the line and slips beneath doors — a watcher, a whisperer, and the memory that lingers when the moment is gone. Set in a small English village, Aura follows Päiviö (a…
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25 Aug: Ruinlit – The Liturgy
17 of 27: The Liturgy for Ruinlit – Courage Mistaken for Recklessness I. The EdgeNot chaos—but its twin:the flicker at the blaze’s hem,where air whispers nowand earth hisses no. Ruinlit is the step takenwhen the choice is burn or run.You will blister.But you will not bend. II. The GlintThey call it madness—this fire in your…
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24 Aug: A Six Sentence Poem
His Pulse (a Six Sentence Poem) The brush is a nerve,an extensionof the tremor in his soul. He does notthink of sunsetsor heartbreak. His eyesclosed,his minda silent white room,a peg in the wall of memoryholding fragmentshe cannot trust. It is only muscle —the memory in his own arm,it guides the brushstrokes,a twitch becomes a river,a…
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22 Aug: Not the Whole Bone
This Is Not the Whole Bone One ear pressedto the city’s ribs.Asleep in the moment of almost: almost safe,almost seen,almost loved, before almostswallowed me whole. I curl into print,a parody of rest,and dream ofstars, not just holesin a beggar’s blanket. But here,where shadows bend,I keep countof what refuses to end. In this kingdom of almost,I…
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20 Aug: MicroDosing 100 µg
What Remains When the River Leaves The boy’s blue balloon escaped at the fair, and for three days it floated—over wheat fields, a highway slick with rain, the chimney where it bobbed, hesitant, in the rising heat. On the fourth day, it settled in the branches of a winter-bare oak. A crow pecked it once.…
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18 Aug: Aetherskein – The Liturgy
16 of 27 (Aetherskein) – The Poem – (The Fragment from the Unseen Loom) 16 of 27 The Liturgy for AetherskeinThe Book of 27, Fragment: The Unseen Loom I. The ThreadNot coincidence—a conspiracy of grace.Aetherskein glints where you almost look,where the light bends just so,where the crow drops the same coinin three cities,in three lifetimes,into…
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