Tag: Poetry
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24 September: Idling Thoughts on a Road Trip
23.09.23 (from Hamburg to Koblenz) 08:19I want a universal mandate that all bathroom fixtures must be the same. At each new hotel, I need to ask him, How do I turn on the shower? 08:50Rain is no metaphor. It is soberingly wet. It is a thinly veiled image of myself. I managed to turn on…
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23 September: Idling Thoughts on a Road Trip
22.09.23 (Svendborg Denmark to Hamburg Germany) 08:51He’s starving. Dinner was foofoo, he says. One radish on some green stuff. Apple. Maybe. And pickled rosehips. Says the evening’s still stuck between his teeth. 09:15Oh yeah, he says, and there was veal steak. Now I’m reassessing this whole starvation story with a squint. 13:14Driving leaves me punctuating…
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20 September: The Goatherd #9
And It Comes the day opened like a flower,the air warpedand hotand unfinished. the woman remembered itas two hemispheres –the beating heart of day,and a wild fermenting moon. and she went blinded into its creation,a brailled path,feeling her way,close as foggy sleep. and when that rooted knobreleased her spine,she cupped a child in her hands,…
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18 September: Idling Thoughts on a Road Trip
17.09.23 07:53 (Kerteminde Denmark)There’s a man walking a small white dog on the beach – it hates waves and disappears into the long grass. Seagulls above, circling, searching for breakfast. Or the dog. Two women breast stroke against the Baltic waves. 8:20Those two women still dripping of Baltic, walk down the street wearing bathrobes and…
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17 September: A Few Photos
Photos from Vester Åby, Lundeborg, Fjællebroen, and Hotel Schloss Wilkinghege in Münster Germany Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.
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14 September: Undertones
Undertones He wants music,not just sounds,music found in every day things. Combustion that leaves smoke on your hands. The music of raindrops in an empty tin. Pots. Pans. Brooms, and metal tubes. Pen on paper. The music of small wordslike it, or at, or if, and autumn’s music in the beech trees,which are alreadyfalling out…
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14 September: Announcement
I’ll be away for a bit. Two episodes of The Goatherder are scheduled, and I’ll pop in when wifi is available. Until then, Jeg tager dig med. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.
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13 September: Flashback to June
When It Was June All the cherries fell.Not from wind or ripeness,it was hail and rain. A substantial cropthat nature emptiedfrom the crowded branches. Summer burns the streets.Doors. Windows. Open wide.Grannies on the shaded stoop. I bought cherries that day.Rinsed them in cold water,and ate them as if my own. Lips.Fingers. Cherry-stained.Stones spat across the…
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12 September: An Ekphrastic Poem
An Ekphrastic Poem: A Contemplative Man The sky is full of his thinking,he is an old soul, and communeswith the footsteps of ancestors. Metaphors float in olive oil,and chunks of bread for dipping.And like magic, his eyelids smile,and we fall into his eyes. Paint brushes in a chalice,sculpted metal, filamental freedom.Air fills with scented pages…
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11 September: The Goatherd #8
The Stirring of Clouds She says the stars are raining,and clouds are stirring in her belly. to sleep.to wake. to dream.to hope not to live for oneself, says the man. She tells him she doesn’t sleep when she dreams,that she only sees trees that never leaf,and sparks that burn the wind. The air snaps with…
It's Still Life 