Tag: a.i.Art
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1302: MicroDosing 100 µg
The Bone Whisperer The bones had been whispering for centuries. Not words …just a low, subterranean hum that vibrated through the soles of anyone who lingered too long in the ossuary chapel. The priest blessed. The villagers fled. The crows remained. The bishop declared it miracle or curse, depending on the collection plate. Then the…
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1302: Naming the Unclaimed
Naming the Unclaimed Wolf moon.Orion’s Belt.Sirius, bold and low. She stands beneath them,wrapped in night’s blanket,its hem dusted with memory. Each star is a name she mouthslike a lullaby,like a story left unfinished. Children she never bore,their light traveling yearsto reach her upturned face. Jupiter.Pollux.Canopus. She counts them slowly—not to possess,but to belong. The city…
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0902: Quadrille 241
In Wilt and Thirst They bring the grave indoors, my dear.A perfumed death-rattlein a vase. Their vivid throats sing a borrowed song.A final, furious blushagainst cold glass— a love note signedin wilt and thirst.Flowers.See us drown in own deep thirst. Written for dVerse Poets, Quadrille #241 Flowers. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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0902: The Liturgy
Liturgy for the Provisional Passport (a hymn for the unmoored and ink-stamped, waiting) I. The Arrival Without WelcomeThe quay,it tolerates you.Coal-smoke and old salt.A lamp hissing in the rainan unwilling guard.You step from the paddle-wheeler’s pitchonto stone that has forgotten how to welcome.This is not a border crossed,but a threshold endured. II. The Surrender of…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
An Olympic Curling Critique(Or: to curl or not to curl) The Old Woman is curled up under a blanket,watching curlers sweep icewith a focus usually reserved for bomb disposal. The cat sits on the floor beside her,tail twitching in time with the stones. “Amateurs,” he mutters.“Look at that sweeping.No conviction!No flair!And the yelling —‘Hurry! Hurry…
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0202: Liturgy of Unmasking of a Beach
Liturgy: The Unmasking of a Beach (Or: Where Water Meets the Wound) Note: This week, I am trying something completely different with my Six. Not a six sentence story (as usual) but the (anthropomorphic) psychological effects of storm-driven tides on a local beach. I. The Withdrawal of the SeaThe tide does not come to cleanse.It…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Koan(Or: The Sound of One Paw Clapping) The Old Womanis reading a book of Zen poetry.The cathas claimed the sunbeamthat crosses the page,and with it, her attention. “I have a koan,” he purrs,without opening his eyes.“What is the sound…of one hand clapping?” She looks at him over her glasses.“You don’t have hands.” “Exactly,”…
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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…
It's Still Life 