A poem, Kiddush on the Solstice, and digital landscapes, HaEtz HaChaim 1–7, from Michael Dickel on Meta/ Phor(e) /Play.
An old man remembers when time stood still as a bike tipped too far going around a corner and what it was like to fall out to space.
This poem struggles in the middle of the night, wrestling with my 61st birthday and sense of failure. The poem begins:
“You want to sleep—but across the tundra,
or perhaps desert hard scrabble. The time
change lags behind and no one wants to
fund you, not even you.”
The woman with a beard contemplates the Toad’s garden in relationship to the decline of empires and the inevitable sound of martial music. Soon the trumpets of war may or may not blow. What we know for certain is that we do not know for certain. Two erstwhile […]
The woman with the beard has a serious moment while the toad continues his studies in this story. The garden is resplendent in Morning Glories for the Japanese Morning Glory Festival (July 6-8), Iriya Asagao Matsuri. This uses both July 7 prompts from the Flash Fiction Month social […]