This tree provided emotional support during my morning commute. It was raining as I drove into town on the “expressway”, but then suddenly some sun came out behind me and illuminated all the greenery.
[daily log: walking, 5km; retailing, 8hr]
Month: May 2023
Caveat: Poem #2492 “As words will do”
ㅁ short words can seem easy but longer words stretch out unexpectedly extensive precise
– a cinquain.
Caveat: Tree #1585 “Sleeping pallets”
This tree lurked with others of its kind, while a feral shipping pallet lumbered on the forest floor.
[daily log: walking, 4km; retailing, 8hr]
Caveat: Con pececillos
Caracola Me han traído una caracola. Dentro le canta un mar de mapa. Mi corazón se llena de agua con pececillos de sombra y plata. Me han traído una caracola. - Federico García Lorca (poeta español, 1898-1936)
Caveat: Poem #2491 “Robins”
ㅁ Robins everywhere: hopping across the road, making noises among the trees, being.
– a cinquain.
Caveat: Tree #1584 “Mistiness”
This tree experienced mistiness.
[daily log: walking, 4km; dogwalking, 3km]
Caveat: Poem #2490 “Not that different”
ㅁ The rain here will come regardless of the season: winter rain; spring rain.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Tree #1583 “Near the sea”
This tree was seen off the balcony of my treehouse, among others, near the sea.
[daily log: walking, 2km;]
Caveat: Poem #2489 “Just being in the moment”
ㅁ Slugs slowly make progress in crossing paths; I doubt they're over-thinking anything.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Tree #1582 “A troller trolling”
This tree was seen from a fishing boat.
[daily log: walking, 4km; dogwalking, 3km]
Caveat: Poem #2488 “Stepwise improvement”
ㅁ So today is the Buddha's birthday, at least as Koreans count it; not really a holiday, here where I live these days. It's quite late this year... follows the moon: wandering Buddha steps.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1581 “Approaching sunset”
This tree was next to a small greenhouse just before sunset.
[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km]
Caveat: Poem #2487 “The phases of a dirt road”
ㅁ Dust, kicked up into clouds by passing trucks... but then the rain returned and we could breathe.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Tree #1580 “Coniferous density”
This tree was in a forest. I saw it just past the 10 mile hill, along our road, where the dog was walked.
[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km]
Caveat: Poem #2486 “Cucumbers”
ㅁ My coworker gave a bunch of small cucumbers. Now, what should I make?
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Tree #1579 “Supervising the fish in the sea”
This tree stood by while an eagle supervised the fish in the sea.
[daily log: walking, 4km; retailing, 8hr]
Caveat: Poem #2485 “Performativity”
ㅁ No. I can't. So instead, if you'll let me... I'll just pretend to make sense and you'll shrug.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Tree #1578 “전라남 영광군”
This tree is a guest tree from my past. I took this picture from the window of my bus on my morning commute in Yeonggwang County, South Korea, in November, 2010. 이 사진은 2010년 11월 전라남 영광군에서 촬영했습니다.
[daily log: walking, 4km; retailing, 8hr]
Caveat: And vast compassion curving like the skies
To the Old Gods Old gods and goddesses who have lived so long Through time and never found eternity, Fettered by wasting wood and hollowing hill, You should have fled our ever-dying song, The mound, the well, and the green trysting tree. They have forgotten, yet you linger still. Goddess of caverned breast and channeled brow, And cheeks slow hollowed by millennial tears, Forests of autumns fading in your eyes, Eternity matvels at your counted years And kingdoms lost in time, and wonders how There could be thoughts so bountiful and wise As yours beneath the ever-breaking bough, And vast compassion curving like the skies. - Edwin Muir (Scottish poet, 1887-1959)
Caveat: Poem #2484 “Causality”
ㅁ Wind, water; so whitecaps appear, pushing... the waves meet the rocky beach of our cove.
– a tetractys.
Caveat: Tree #1577 “Vehicular repositioning”
This tree was there when I moved the GDC (the old RV) up to the parking spot by the greenhouse – preliminary to a project to wash it next weekend. I wanted it close to the water spigot. The day was sunny but rather chilly and windy.
[daily log: walking, 2.5km;]
Caveat: Poem #2483 “A short tale”
ㅁ There's no sun and the wind blows. Words form on the page, in rows. Motivation lags. I doze.
– a defective englyn milwr (missing cross consonance).
Caveat: Tree #1576 “Awaiting some sun”
This tree is hoping for a bit of sun in through the window. There is a maple tree and two bay laurels, which I got a few months ago via the internet. I don’t want to subject these baby trees to the unending damp of an outdoor life in Southeast Alaska just yet – I have noticed that exotic saplings seem have a hard time with that aspect of the local climate, moreso than issues with the lower temperatures or lack of direct sun. Too many of my saplings have died of “too much moisture” – mostly due to concomitant mold / fungus, I suspect.
[daily log: walking, 2.5km;]
Caveat: Poem #2482 “Reflections on the present”
ㅁ spring for me is a time of dull gloom an endogenous rising-up of feelings of failings of... all my intentions stop While the world speeds up and i resent the present... prefer past
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1575 “A challenge”
This tree confronted overcast skies.
My mental association with me yelling is that I’m angry. Or terrified of something. Of course, this makes sense. I’m not a person to raise his voice without good reason.
The “emotional” problem I have in dealing with Arthur is that – in the context of his increasing deafness – the only way to get through to him in answer to whatever banal, day-to-day questions he asks of me (and always without his hearing aids, because he “forgets” to put in his hearing aids, of course), is to yell: much louder than my accustomed tone of voice. And the mental trick my mind plays, that I can’t seem to overcome, is that by yelling, I become angry – whether or not I really am. And I just can’t seem to bypass this gut-level, emotional reaction.
Arthur asks me “What’s for dinner?”
I answer, in a regular tone, “I thought we’d have a salad.”
“What? Who?”
Louder, I repeat, “I thought we’d have a salad.”
“A palace?”
Louder still, I yell, “No. A salad!” Now I’m angry. My gut is churning.
Meanwhile, “Oh, a salad. I thought you said palace. I was very confused. Why would we have a palace for dinner?”
“Just a @#$% salad!”
Repeat, on different banal topics, 10-20 times a day.
[daily log: walking, 1.5km;]