ㅁ Trees lie down only when they're done with life. At least they're very patient while they stand.
– a tetractys.
Category: My Poetry & Fiction
Caveat: Poem #2689 “Inventory”
ㅁ Toys, knickknacks, ornaments, various things... the gift shop tries to prepare for Christmas.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Poem #2688 “Unelectrified”
ㅁ dark... silent... power's out. sometimes happens. so I sat and read a book on my phone.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Poem #2687 “The business”
ㅁ This dying business: we all do it, and it always seems to take a lifetime.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Poem #2686 “The mechanism”
ㅁ Time ratchets, and occludes meaning's fragments, leaving only incoherent traces.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Poem #2685 “Implicit comparisons”
ㅁ The sun's not here yet. Instead, I offer coffee. Same but different.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #2684 “Body outline”
ㅁ I sleep on the floor. Later... pick up my bedding, but the floor's still warm.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #2683 “Water removal procedure”
ㅁ I bailed out my jeep: Water had collected there inside, on the floor.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #2682 “Not promising”
ㅁ No. Rainbows don't promise; they just sit there... touch down somewhere behind the post office.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Poem #2681 “The yellow grass”
ㅁ The tall grass waves alongside the road, bleached pale yellow by the winter, twisting and dancing in wind, which swarms off the sea's arms... woeful, abandoned, perennial but asleep until Spring.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2680 “Secret knowledge”
ㅁ Some people have reached out to ask me, "Why do you write poems about rain? "I mean, really... so many?" My answer is simple: in a rainforest, "write what you know"... what you live what's there now.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2679 “The emissaries”
ㅁ Some days the clouds are more insistent. They send down damp emissaries: pelting, aggressive raindrops that gather in the trees run down to the rocks collect in streams race downhill and seek seas.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2678 “The 70’s”
ㅁ We sit and watch these old tv shows. In fact I don't mind them at all. They induce a nostalgia. I can live in the past: Kate Jackson's bright smile, Starsky's fast car... expectant future dreams.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2677 “Respite”
ㅁ Sun appeared just briefly and then the wind and pelting rain and heavy clouds returned.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Poem #2676 “That which illuminates”
ㅁ Light (the moon's) through the clouds illuminates all the sea sleeping beyond my doorstep.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Poem #2675 “And home again”
ㅁ The steady rain fell, welcomed us to our island, and potholes said "hi!"
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #2674 “Like some weird omen, but just weather”
ㅁ Just as we drove down that last hill into this town, a fog descended.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #2673 “Anticipated return”
ㅁ One last morning here, among the Oregon trees. Alaskan trees, soon.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #2672 “Buy now, at a discount”
ㅁ Mikkerbauk fantasie Joe - Ah, blue hills of quiet paradise. The captain-people will take it all away in fancy flying rocket-planes of self-individual, hallucinatory love of masses - squalid suffering folk with homes of cardboard, you see, don't you, the danger?! (Buy now, at discount).
– a free-form poem from my own ancient past. I wrote this poem in April, 1988, in a paper journal I was keeping at the time. Don’t ask me what “Mikkerbauk” means – I frequently produced such vaguely Joycean nonces in my journal-writing of that era. The captain-people were ubiquitous, however.
Caveat: Poem #2671 “The climate’s suggestions”
ㅁ I looked out and saw a white brightness. The moon was there among the trees. It had stolen the darkness. The leaves were black and white. Frosted purple air lapped at the bark, traced branches... winter hints.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2670 “Reunion”
ㅁ You can not see them for forty years, but a true friend remains a friend. You meet again, exchange looks, and there's understanding. This happened today, it sounds corny. It's human, makes me glad.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2669 “Seventy-seventh stanza”
ㅁ Snow had arrived, and was thick on the ground. Trees were stripped bare. The town's streets had no sound. Kiamon trudged from the dingy motel, Facing her fate, her thick coat like a shell.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
Caveat: Poem #2668 “The gray”
ㅁ The map failed to appear as it should. An expectant grayness, instead, filled up the browser's window. Rebooting the server did not fix a thing. Perhaps the world was broken: "Planet closed."
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2667 “In conversation with the psychologist”
ㅁ His father had died of grumpiness - declared categorically. Somehow that doesn't connect to his current approach. No introspection - or just hidden. Self, unseen unknown, gone.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2666 “He lost his tiny plastic hat”
ㅁ "Thief!" His hat had detached, leaving his head exposed as he ran: the lego guy's peg head was apparently too bright for the man to evade police. Well, that's how my grandson explained it.
– a reverse nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2665 “The hammer and the nail”
ㅁ I dreamed my own self-trepanation, which is a quite strange thing to dream. So, where do these thoughts come from? What suggested a nail and a small hammer? It was nothing that I'd seen. Random stuff.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2664 “The night’s events”
ㅁ I heard the slow drizzle on the roof. But then I went outside, and saw there were many stars instead. Somehow the clouds had fled, during that short time. The sky's changes disregard even night.
– a nonnet.
#Poetry #nonnet
Caveat: Poem #2663 “Astrology”
ㅁ Getting up before dawn, I saw stars. I failed to notice their movement; rather, they were fixed and still. Some tree branches imposed, drawing their stark lines. A single star blinked, wavered: a leaf swung.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2662 “Leaving”
ㅁ There were leaves racing along the road, flung around by the passing cars. They seemed to be sentient. Which is to say, panicked, suffering, fearful, fleeing traffic, jumping down ditchward, hurt.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2661 “A circle”
ㅁ Apple pie was a necessity. So Juli rolled out some pie crust, pressed it into the pie plate. She has pre-made filling from their apple trees. The top added, oven hot, it baked... done!
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2660 “The Fall”
ㅁ The years transformed into confusion, and that, in turn, turned to anger. The missing information rendered malevolent in its mere absence, floated like leaves lost by trees - just like Fall.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2659 “Probably just a metaphor”
ㅁ In my dreams, a billionaire's small child capriciously commanded me to perform some pointless tasks. I resisted, angry. But the games went on. World aflame, she... revealed her robot face.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2658 “Survival narrative”
ㅁ The stories accumulate like snow, forming drifts among the neurons. The underlying spaces become blurred and smoothed out. The stories remain. You can study their patterns and find self.
– a nonnet.