This tree is a time traveler.
[daily log: walking, 1km]
bread and bacon, piled with lettuce and tomato... failed sandwich: salad!
strident birds green ideas forceful sunlight
grave concerns red movement gentle wind
angular branches precipitous descent able creatures
it all feels
deep soil dull failure dead spirits
[This poetic form is called a quennet. It is one of the many odd and wonderful things to emerge from Oulipo. It is a specification not based on meter or rhyme but rather parts of speech and word counts – you could argue that it is syntactic versification. I think more could be done with inventing such constraints.]
as the solstice nears: a quadrangle of dawn's sun flees the north window
a few syllables strung out like stones on a path embedded in mud
This is pretty interesting. It’s a diagram showing the distribution of biomass by taxon, for the whole Earth.
What really struck me more than anything else is that humans + livestock, in the lower right corner, far outweigh all wild mammals and birds. And humans nearly outweigh their livestock. I never thought that could be true.
The silver sea spits, praying for rain, no comment... tree shrouded islands
Arthur and I drove into town: “Thursday is shopping day.”
Therefore, I present this tree from the archives.
The tree that I have selected is to the left of a scary-looking sign. The sign memorializes a prison uprising on a notorious prison island in South Korea (실미도), during the 1960s (the era of the dictatorship). Apparently the prisoners were being trained for a suicide mission against North Korea, but they decided to use their new skills to rebel and escape, instead. Things got messy, of course.
But anyway, it’s a nice tree.
[daily log: walking, 1km]
The sky enfolds pale and the rain makes suggestions while mist chews the trees
There are plenty of words at the start. These words emerge and tumble down. They fall in cold rivulets. Soon, there are piles of words. Strangers tromp through them. They block the view. Children play. I sigh. Stop.
This is a sad-looking pine tree about two-thirds of the way up the slope toward the treehouse location. It’s the only actual pine tree I’ve run across on Arthur’s two lots – there are quite a few of them out east along the road where the muskeg is (the flat stretch near the bridges), but not so many here along the hillside. This pine tree looks like someone attempted to decapitate it at some point, but it’s decided to stay in the game for now.
[daily log: walking, 1km; ditchdigging, 1m]
one oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh - two to the tenth
A string sings along through the lumpy, bumpy sea... our sad, swollen sea.