Tag: a.i.Art
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0203: The Looms Liturgy
Liturgy for the Looms That Never Stop(Lyon, 1834, where silk costs more than children) I. The Sound That Never EndsIt begins before dawn and continues after.The clack clack clack of wooden shuttlesthrowing thread, catching thread,weaving fabric that will never warmthe hands that made it. All day. All night. Every day.The looms do not rest.They cannot…
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #8
8 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Questions the Daffodil (A Floral Inquiry) The cat sits in the morning sun,one paw delicately touching a yellow petalas if it might bite back. “Daffodils,” he enunciates,slowly,testing the word like a suspicious piece of chicken, “Who decided?Who looked at this…yellow trumpet on a twig and thought,‘Yes. Daffodil. Good name.’ Certainly not a cat.A…
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #7
7 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #6
6 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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2602: MicroDosing 100 µg
In the forest’s throatthe oldest voice is root-deep.Slow.Patiently churning. It speaks in a languageof decayand renewal.Unhurriedand whispering —what we never thought to hear. Its green voice, thinand light, softlysusurrusleaf against leaf,tiny tonguesdebatingthe wind’s direction. It quickens —a shrew’s panicked prayer,a beetle’s silent counting,an owl’s velveteen questionsthat need no answer. And holding it all,a voice that…
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #5
5 Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) Prologue for the Deaf Listener: This project (multi-part) is written with the deaf reader in mind. It translates orchestral movement into embodied language. These words are the sound of cold becoming a lash. Bring on the wind with teeth of glass, biting bare branches into prayers of splinter.…
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2502: dVerse Hunger
Hunger for the Quiet of Stars Not for bread. Not for knowing.This hunger has no mouth. It pulls toward the hourwhen clocks forget purpose,when the sky’s deep bruiseoffers its cold, patient pulse. To fold inward like a held breath.To be,the star no one names. Written for DVerse Poets Quadrille “hunger” Image from Nasa: Cat Eye Nebula.…
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2302: Tessaly
A Cat Named Thessaly She came because she chose to.A small black defiance of gravity,fur electric with purpose,already naming herself into their hearts. They say grief is a flickering.A light that won’t decide,the house breathing differentlyin the spaces she used to fill. He held her at the end.Let that land.He held her while the asthmatook…
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2302: The Liturgy of Light
Part 3, Liturgy for the Light That Was Not Ours(One border that’s only another) I. The Carriage as CrucibleThe wheels sang agony in vowels.Every jolt a verdict, every rut a reckoning.We counted time by froth at the horses’ mouths,in the shudder of their ribs.Safety was Lyon, we whispered to ourselves,the lie turning prayer by repetition.…
It's Still Life 