Mika AndersoninScribeThe Whales in RomeRome was hot in December, a lonely Christmas feast of clear sunlight and shimmering heat bending against pale stone buildings, timeless…May 1732May 1732
Mika AndersoninScribeLast SupperI become what I fear the most, a body carved in a familiar form— long, veined lines, soft marble and upturned palms— I spread the wings…Apr 239Apr 239
Mika AndersoninThe InterstitialBlooming CowsThe cows on the hillside have returned and amongst them like piles of summer snow — calves, gossamer and fresh, long pink tongues…Apr 146Apr 146
Mika AndersoninScribeAs the Rain ComesA warm breeze steals in through the open window, camel-colored curtain swaying, hypnotic. Coffee, weak and watered down, laps, almost…Apr 1013Apr 1013
Mika AndersoninScribeGoose CreekThe geese are sleeping, razor beaks tucked away, palmate under technicolored wings, opalescent against dawn’s tentative touch.Apr 510Apr 510
Mika AndersoninThe InterstitialTolstoy’s Infinite SkyAs spring settles, it seems to me that my body has gone. As if I have never before known the velvet blue of a stretching sky, never smelled…Apr 26Apr 26
Mika AndersonFécamp, NormandyThe sea spray is cool on my skin, salty in my nose and on my lips, weathered and raw. The wind, strong here by the foam sliding over…Mar 313Mar 313