Month: September 2021
Caveat: Poem #1887 “Meritocracy”
ㅁ Diligence doesn't result in success; luck plays a role when statistics regress: Random events and the spinnings of time; harsh distributions of reason and rhyme.
Caveat: Tree #986 “Rough-hewn towtruck”
This tree (or these trees – mounted to the back of the pickup truck) has been granted a new role as a hand-crafted tow-truck boom.
This is pure “Alaska Gothic” in my opinion, and I enjoyed seeing this.
Caveat: Poem #1886 “Frames”
ㅁ Frames enclose images and suggest ways of looking at things, new angles, perspectives, on the same old world's contents, but it's all just a mental trick, a simple reframing, so to speak.
Caveat: Tree #985
Caveat: Poem #1885 “Sun creeps southward”
ㅁ The equinox has passed, so... the dawn comes later, you know... I still get up early, though.
Caveat: Tree #984
Caveat: Poem #1884 “For when the muses fail me”
ㅁ If I examine the art, study its patterns, each part, I find new memories start.
Caveat: Tree #983
This tree saw the addition of a sixth wall panel to my treehouse, and then I lifted the first roof-rafter into place.
Caveat: Poem #1883 “Card catalog”
ㅁ My insomnia arrives, ruffles through my brain's archives; a fragment of dream survives.
Caveat: Tree #982
Caveat: Poem #1882 “How the world works”
ㅁ The world pretends by rearranging things, by moving atoms constantly through arcs, through curves of time and space in ways that cause the ghosts of complex things to manifest.
– a philosophical quatrain in blank verse (iambic pentameter).
Caveat: Tree #981
Caveat: Poem #1881 “Demiurges”
ㅁ All the streets seem real enough. The terrain is broken, rough. But it's all made of dream-stuff.
Caveat: Tree #980
Caveat: Poem #1880 “Scary bear”
ㅁ The bear had crossed the river and looked up at the road, here; I saw it; made me shiver.
Caveat: Tree #979
Caveat: Poem #1879 “Rain gauge”
ㅁ The guy said it's rained a lot; seventeen inches we've got; that is September's snapshot.
Caveat: Tree #978
Caveat: Poem #1878 “Rainforest patterns”
ㅁ Why so much about the rain? You might ask. Well in this task, past the pain, I write what I see, again.
Caveat: Tree #977
Caveat: Poem #1877 “The ghosts of slugs passed”
ㅁ The slugs, they race across the road with hopes, expecting to avoid the zooming cars; but now and then the tires take their toll, and leave a slug in ghost form, free at last.
Caveat: Tree #976
Caveat: Poem #1876 “Forty-second stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon sat in the dark before dawn trying to focus her mind: where'd it gone? Time had been swallowed by efforts in vain; now all she had was the slow, quiet rain.
Caveat: Tree #975
This tree was foregrounded by part of my treehouse-in-progress.
Meanwhile, I found a few vegetables in my mold-garden (aka greenhouse).