Uneasy Welkin, Sunday Preach (Or, the AI Algorithm Jumps the Creek)

I. Pareidolia From far out, it appears to be art, but up close you see the ruse, the picnickers in the glade in Waiting for the Bride have no faces, or melted faces, and the Lost Horse has hind quarters that are really tree limbs, bent, and really there is no horse at all. Overwhelmed … More Uneasy Welkin, Sunday Preach (Or, the AI Algorithm Jumps the Creek)

Eye of the Day

One common tern hovers high above Lake Michigan, then dives under the waves and back again, its path a ragged stitch from sky purpling like a bruise into water smooth as a mirror, and then back to sky again, pulling together heaven and earth like the closing of a weary eye.

Wee Thing

While waiting for the Percoset to kick in, and the Spinal to bid goodbye, (thus far I can tense the muscles in my right thigh, only), so I can walk, and pee, and get home, and while trying to breathe out in a hiss through the cramping of my missing womb, (though to be clear … More Wee Thing