ㅁ I'll make my breakfast: simple oatmeal in a bowl, but forget to eat.
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ It seems that the key is to time it precisely: enlightened at death. It would be easy: approximate asymptote, like Zeno's story. Perhaps many folks succeed in this task. Indeed... maybe all do it.
– three pseudo-haiku as stanzas in a longer poem.
ㅁ Dog versus the forest: He follows trails, reads the messages along our path by nose, takes small detours through gold leaves, overlooks the rushing river, full of water from the recent rains.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ Right. No, left. We were lost. The signs were vague. So then we backtracked. And we found the clinic. The doctors agreed it's hard. The hospital is like a maze. All the building is nothing but doors.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ A deer just stood there. It wondered why I stood there. Beings... standing there.
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ First there were served some appetizers. Then, not long after, the turkey, the mashed potatoes, gravy, but also a ham, and yams, something with cranberries, and some green salad, pasta salad; a short break... at last, pie.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ "Pathological optimism" was the pithy phrase he applied to characterize himself. My father wasn't wrong. It has vast problems. But at the least it avoids hating things.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Perhaps it is inevitable, the narcissism of old age: our world becomes more opaque and senses betray us; we retreat inward, stories repeat, all the world becomes flat.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Things I miss about Los Angeles include the smell before the dawn, tacos within a short walk, the whooshing sound of cars, Spanish overheard, broken sidewalks, mad traffic, oak trees, dirt.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ My father sleeps with all the lights on. I wonder how it affects dreams. Will my dreams attenuate, during my visit here? It's intentional. Lights on... now sleep. But still, I prefer dark.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The fence presented haphazard rails: janky intentionality, more a symbol of a fence than anything useful... and still it said "fence" where you see it and can feel the path's closed.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The city gave reassurances, anonymous but palpable; the population did things, pursued goals and knew signs, all without guidance, all on their own, inventing, living, real.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The One Thirty-four embraced me, like a lover, replayed old commutes; the gray skyline hung against an orangish wall defined by the air; I went to Burbank and tasted the sidewalk there, consumed memories; I miss my home here: the city's tight solitudes enveloping all.
– four pseudo-haiku as stanzas in a poem.
ㅁ Some snow fell last night. You can see moonlight reflect. It might change to rain.
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ I sat down in the cold snow, getting wet, trying to get that round 'O', the wheel, on the hub; too low.
– an englyn penfyr.