Tag: Poetry
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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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0202: Journal of Thoughts
Senryuwe call it orderbut the stones made their own waylong before we named Haikurain sleeps in the cracksof a thousand quiet yearsgold dust in the hush Written for SenHai 37 . Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI. Poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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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…
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2401: Senryu-Haiku
I. Senryuhe learns every wordbut not the sky’s wild grammarwe clip him with names Haikucaged in falling lighthis shadow flutters, silentwings remembering II. Senryuhe mimics our wordsbut says nothing of the cagewe built around him Haikurain veils the silenceon a branch, grey feathers dreamforest holds its breath Written for SenHai Saturday . Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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2401: Ceramic Truths
Ceramic Truths The sun is splitting the sky open.Night lifts,a spill of milk — dawn is like sleeping with the lights on. My mug; always this one.White, a black penny-farthing.Tivoli. Copenhagen.(Not Rome. Never been.Though I do like pasta.) The chip in the handlefits my thumb like a worry stone,a small devotion,a memory of the morningwhen…
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Csárdás Part 3
Csárdás (as body-memory) The first stroke of the bowis not music;it is touch.A slow drag,a finger tracing the spineof the room. The sound is dark,sultry with sorrow,the colour of bruised wineand old heat. People close their eyes.Some wounds open.Some hips stir. Then the rhythm snaps!God, it snaps,and the body answersbefore the mind can. Heels strike…
It's Still Life 