Tag: AI Digital Art
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27 October: A Syzygy Poem
A Syzygy Poem A woman stands in the rain.Hat. No coat. No umbrella.No need. She won’t rust. Shovel in her hand, tendingthe soil. Bends and bows.Rain is her background. She sings around the edgesof a tune from her childhood,something about rainbows. A three-way split “Syzygy poem”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified…
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26 October: Disintegration
Disintegration Do you hear that?There’s an empty space in my voice. A void in my capabilities.To climb a hill, and exhaust it. Stairs by handrailsby step-step, step-step. Do you see the ghost of a womanwho could take stairs two at a time. Zero to sixty in 3.3 seconds.Off-piste.5K. I’m in danger of becomingmoss on a…
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26 October: 01 Völuspá
01 Völuspá (vou.lah.spá) Every fisherman thinks the sea is his own to fish. A man.A woman.Newly wed,Their sacred pledge rang out. He does.She does.But she wants him to be her earth, Now.Forever.Beyond destruction, and a serpent’s kiss. But to the seaHe’ll return,His first love, to fish its depths. And she eases her heartWith stars,And charms,Lit…
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25 October: Tristan and Isolde
Tristan and Isolde She was a fallen leafAnd he was the ground And the stars allowedTheir circles to meetFor the briefest of time. She knew purest joyAnd blackness of loss She was a fallen leaf.And he was her ground. Maria Callas – Wagner- Tristan und Isolde -Liebestod. This is the first opera I ever saw, and…
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23 October: God’s Seed
God’s Seed I know a woman who cleansdirt off a bar of soap. Her husband is a clean man,always smells of Wright’s Coal Tar. Spends his days on knobby knees,planting seed against the willof God’s own wind. His only mistress is the land —widely indifferent to his wife,who dreams of the day when his manhood…
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21 October: We Reigned
We Reigned Over Summer As a kid, I understood water.Dive in head-first, water seems hollow.Feet-first, it’s a brick wall. Sometimes I’d pretend to be a boat, capsized.Or an iceberg. Frozen. Stiff. Floatinglike a Poohstick. Then I’d wade outof the shallows, imagine every stone left dry and parched, fish flapping —all that water held in my…
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20 October: Ten Minutes Past Twelve
At 10 Minutes Past Twelve …he says he’s burnt the soup.How do you burn a liquid, I ask,and he says he just turned his back on it for a second, and it was toast. How does soup become toast, I ask,and he says marrying a poet is a bloody curse. Toast it is, I tell…
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20 October: Deep Water
Deep Water That black lake lies flat,lessons for a river, and there’s a far away tree,punctuation at the lake’s end, I want you, it says. Thin little skinny tree,as if fiction was a fact of death. Deep water is what it is,a fear that says it wants you. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI,…
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18 October: The Goatherd #13
The Spirit of Goats Sure as rocks roll down hills,the woman felt it split her skull. Feltthe explosive roar.Felt starlightdescend all round her. Heard a herald ring in her ears. This stormof no small power,renegade skies daredmock the Mara. A floodthat hurled trees, breakinginto one another,a cataclysmicconscious crush. Black crows chose for the sky,panicked, go…
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17 October: Flash Fiction (332 words)
Fifteen Minutes on 25 December 1968 (332 words) It’s Christmas. The one when the White Album came out. It was a Christmas gift. I bought it myself. I mean, I like socks and handmade polyester button up jumpers, well in truth, no I don’t, which why I bought my own gift that year. Anyway, it’s…
It's Still Life 