Prose
“Short Nothing. Let’s see what the algorithm worships today.”
I created this for my bird. We are living in an authoritarian society in America now. Sweetie is my muse for writing and music. I bond well with birds. We both love Syfy and glitches in the matrix when they happen. Floating in a busted bubble I breathe in, breathe out slowly. I do not get many views. I studied AI on my own with Copilot assistance. I like the tools it provides for photography, videos, & music. I write my own stuff. I began music & voice training at an incredibly early age. THAT IS BORING AND NOT INTELLECTUAL ENOUGH! I laugh out loud, I cry out, I sigh, relief from the grinding news of death, destruction, & chaos. I am 76 and still rockin!
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 4 months ago in Poets
Fabric of You
The ivory jersey dress hangs in my closet nearly forty years into this tapestry, despite the years outside the loom. The flannel of your voice is the dominant fabric, sometimes just a thread between those velvet looks, silken caresses, and cashmere kisses that haunt my waking dreams, the burlap that terrorizes me in the conscious nightmares, the great holes, the gap bound by leather cords to the wool that eventually relaxes into the cotton and linen of our separate lives: light, easy things with their own special threads, patterns and ravels. Now, as I force those leather cords through the thousand thread count sheets we blindly wove to comfort us through the darkest night, I don’t know what your next thread will be: denim? gabardine? merino? but I feel you spinning it and know it will eventually weave into the textile of my life, and I will wear that dress again.
By Harper Lewis4 months ago in Poets
