Tag: a.i.Art
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #4
4 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 Seeks a New Country(Or: A Feline Defector’s Lament) The cat sits before the telly,tail wrapped tight with disappointment,as Team GB slides — mostly sideways —down a slope that looks suspiciously likeold woman’s garden after a bad storm. “This,” he hisses,“is embarrassing.We don’t have snow.We have damp.Glorified drizzle.You can’t ski on damp.You can’t luge…
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2102: SenHai #40
SenryuI sink past the noisedown where even my worrieslose their sharp edges Haikulight through moving bluestones cradle the silent floortime drifts without sound Written for Saturday SenHai #40 . Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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Vivaldi’s Winter — L’Inverno (1st Movement) #3
3 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) #2
2 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) #1
1 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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1602: The Liturgy
Liturgy for Those Who Burned Their Names to Stay Alive(for the ones who fled too late) I. The First Mistake of BelievingYou thought the river would wash you clean.You thought the new tonguewould taste sweeter in your mouth. That the accent you couldn’t shedwould be mistaken for poetry,not origin. But fear travels without papers.It crossed…
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1502: Sunday Whirl 744
Plesiosaurs At salty edgesthe beasts drank brineand bit the wind. The tides drag debris;bone, rib, vertebra,a silver scatterunder the tilt of a ruined sky. The jaw of the seacracks open. It does not sip.It slathers rock raw.It vaults the horizonlike a spine snapping. Voices?Gone. Each stitch of speechripped from the throat,salt-packed,swallowed whole. The edges remember.The…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Watches the Sky Slopes (A Tragedy in Four Paws) The cat buries his face in the old woman’s sleeve.“Make it stop,” he whimpers,one eye peeking at the telly.“They’re falling.Tumbling.Cartwheeling through the snow. WHERE ARE THEIR CLAWS?” She strokes between his ears.“They have skis, cat.And skill.And helmets.” “Helmets?Helmets don’t protect dignity!I fall off the…
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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…
It's Still Life 