ㅁ The moon was big and oddly shaped: three-quarters full, a lump. It hung out over islands, there: the mountain just a bump.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ The moon was big and oddly shaped: three-quarters full, a lump. It hung out over islands, there: the mountain just a bump.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ the mud appears outside my door it's crafted from above I recognize its provenance the clouds are showing love
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ The winter comes here in slow steps with each step made of wet. The only thing that moves in steps: each night is colder yet.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ confused tableaux disjointed narratives surreal settings strange dreams unlikely transitions random characters old memories strange dreams korean prison alaskan school mexican church strange dreams it's happened there appeared made abstract giraffe came said some things captured me turned yellow past events present anxieties future hopes strange dreams
ㅁ Indirectly, the bits were altered, or rather, manipulated, via high-level symbols, small, language-like fragments so appearances began to shift and pixels redrawn, changed
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Yesterday morning, colder, and I walked, stopped and talked... to a boulder, it was silent. I, older.
– an englyn penfyr.
ㅁ the wind was quite strong it blew through town all day long and the building creaked
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ Rosalie laid out the cards that she'd made; winter, outside, sculpted snow and conveyed endings to things that she hadn't yet schemed: Kiamon's name came to her as she dreamed.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter. Rosalie is Kiamon’s great-great-grandmother, and Not-A-Wolf’s granddaughter.
ㅁ I sought out some words. They failed to appear as hoped. So instead: these words.
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ In the end it wasn't the weather that ended my treehouse sojourn, rather, my uncle's issues with his declining health suggested prudence and I decamped. The attic, again, home.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Some said that they left no stone unturned, but that isn't how it happened. The search was desultory, and stones were left unturned. In fact the stones won: they kept secrets, bided time, waited, hid.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ this morning i'm in mourning that dead fish so yummy squish decaying then you yelled "no!" so boring
– an englyn penfyr.
ㅁ Communication works like this: I speak my thought out loud, then he decides what I have said within his mind's closed shroud.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ The two-by-fours fell, and they tried to bonk my head... bruised both hands badly.
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ Kiamon dwelt in the house by the shore, built by her grandmother's mother, before; lately she'd taken to sitting alone, there by the trees on an outjutting stone.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
ㅁ I've slept in my metal clad treehouse every night for three months now. But lately it's dark out there, and the nights grow colder. Uninsulated, with a screen door... I'll move out. Winter comes.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ i was baptized in barnacle blood as i scraped at the boat's bottom and used the pressure washer to blast off the black bits until at long last i decided that was enough so i stopped
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The dog was wishing she could run all up and down the road, but I restrained her with the leash... she huffed and bore the load.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ I went to get lumber in the rain. Fred's driveway was a vast mudhole. Wading ankle-deep in mud, I loaded the lumber sticking out the back of the Chevy and drove home... uphill, down.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The dog found a discarded deer's foot lying in a ditch by the road. Bits of flesh clung to the joints. She was quite pleased with this. The bone was held high, triumphantly. She gnawed it, and pranced. Yum.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Blink. Open. Look around. I see nothing. It's completely dark. Oh, the faintest light, there. That's waking up before dawn. So I turn on my little light, Put on some clothes, exit the treehouse.
– a reverse nonnet.