back home
the firm green
of mangoes
—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy
wildflowers the ruddiness of her laughter
—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy
Wednesday, December 3, 2025
Tuesday, December 2, 2025
Chen-ou Liu
alone again
on a seaside bench
tides of childhood
lap against memory
in the quiet of my mind
—Chen-ou Liu
Thomas David
mountain echo
your voice
inside my head
—Thomas David
cemetery walk
remembering
the forgotten
—Thomas David
Tilted, tanka prose by C.X. Turner
The morning enters in fragments. Stripes of brightness, flickering beside shadows. At first, I mistake the darker bands for truth, my words thinning as they scatter.
A figure hunched in the chair shifts my pens, moves the steel cup, later telling me I misremembered. Shadows spread across every surface until the only way to stop their pull is to close my eyes.
A click of the front door. The air stays heavy, unmoving. My breath stumbles, chest tight, the walls still leaning in. An echo from the recorder, my voice looping back, flat and practiced.
Slowly, the space begins to widen. The room steadies. Light presses through the narrow gaps, enough to hold my outline.
first frost
the weight of berries
on an uncut hedge
a rook turns its head
towards the unsettled sky
Monday, December 1, 2025
Susan Burch
birdfeedercam
only the rain
comes to visit
—Susan Burch
the cardinal agrees talk is cheep
—Susan Burch
giving birth
another pink flower
in the flowerbed
—Susan Burch
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