A tree down by the water.
[daily log: walking, 1km; ditchdigging, 2m]
Day: May 27, 2019
Caveat: Poem #1030 “Syntactic verse”
ㅁ strident birds green ideas forceful sunlight gloomy eagle grave concerns red movement gentle wind rough bark angular branches precipitous descent able creatures spinning insects the day arrives but nothing changes except now it all feels different deep soil dull failure dead spirits ghostly contortions
– a quennet. This poetic form, called a quennet, 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.
