(Poem #294 on new numbering scheme)
Words, decontextualized, seep across his consciousness till they begin to congeal and their meanings cause duress.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #294 on new numbering scheme)
Words, decontextualized, seep across his consciousness till they begin to congeal and their meanings cause duress.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #293 on new numbering scheme)
A certain type of air is more like motes of truth and doubt: it swirls in paths around each tree like hounds sent out to scout.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #292 on new numbering scheme)
I would prefer to craft a text that comes out quite absurd but every time I start to write, there's meaning, word by word.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #291 on new numbering scheme)
One time, we drove to Winnipeg. We argued about things. The sun set over frozen fields; a bird spun on its wings. Michelle said she preferred Plato She forcefully declared: The essence that precedes language... no category's spared. I liked more Aristotle's views a fluid take on stuff: I felt thus that all meaning shifts, Essences aren't enough. We never did agree that day our anger simmered slow We stayed together three more years, Before I had to go.
– four quatrains in ballad meter
(Poem #290 on new numbering scheme)
"Teacher! Why do you know so much?" "I guess I studied lots." "But studying is not much fun." "I've way too many thoughts."
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #289 on new numbering scheme)
The rain presents some symbols to the streets with gentle strokes; the streets in turn reflect the signs that wind itself invokes.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #288 on new numbering scheme)
Some Mondays will refuse to be compliant with my hope that each new week begin with an ability to cope.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #287 on new numbering scheme)
In times before our epoch's end when alligator songs were chanted in the swamps and groves, swarms rioted in throngs.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #286 on new numbering scheme)
If anything becomes like graves it might be buildings. They can stand for longer times than those who made them, grim and gray.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #285 on new numbering scheme)
The moon's dull disk, above, now seems unreasonably gold. The teeth of time's wheels make me feel unseasonably old.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #284 on new numbering scheme)
As hopes proclaim their roots and sprouts, each tendril rashly curled, the ordinary blooms of need unfold across the world.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #283 on new numbering scheme)
This speck of dust did not attempt to cross the gulf that yawned between my window's dirty sill and all the world beyond.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #282 on new numbering scheme)
The spirits bodied forth on walls, incarnate desires swarmed all into crevices and cracks with mutant, feral forms.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #281 on new numbering scheme)
Sometimes I try explaining things; I am misunderstood. I still digress and divagate my words a trackless wood.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #280 on new numbering scheme)
An incantory angel's wings, with luminescent plumes, descend upon your muse, like snow, disguise what she assumes.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #279 on new numbering scheme)
The bird shoves time out from its nest; it, stone-like, falls and sighs. Tic-toc, tic-toc - it spins and flaps, until at last it flies.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #278 on new numbering scheme)
The clouds adopted purple robes, brought early summer's night, began to shred the stars' bright flesh, dispersed gems into white.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #277 on new numbering scheme)
The ziggurats began to watch as humans dueled with saints and on clay tablets, scribes took notes about their blows and feints.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #276 on new numbering scheme)
Today is Buddha's birthday, but I bet he doesn't care; and if he cared I think that then there'd be no Buddha there.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #275 on new numbering scheme)
The sun has captured trees and bugs and set them all abuzz. The solstice looms and skies get wide, forget what winter was.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #274 on new numbering scheme)
My head is full of nonsense words. In fact, I like it so. They swirl around and cluster up, and spill out, fast and slow.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #273 on new numbering scheme)
Each passing face displays its own interiorities. One can imagine that inside are sad calamities.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #272 on new numbering scheme)
The ball lamented (so alone), abandoned by those kids, beset by weeds and springtime blooms: a sphere's life... on the skids.
(Poem #271 on new numbering scheme)
A jar was falling: with a clank it plunged and hit the floor. I dodged it with a quick side step: unbroken... still I swore.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #270 on new numbering scheme)
You get a little ways through spring, and then a strange day comes: the air blows chill, and tastes of fall, the fragile bloom succumbs.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #269 on new numbering scheme)
She wrote and asked about that stone: "So it's set in its ways? Perhaps a stone will dream its past - its former glory days?"
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #268 on new numbering scheme)
A dog will dream about his walks, and cats will dream in schemes, the trees will dream of growing tall, but stones... they have no dreams.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #267 on new numbering scheme)
Our world... she chants a magic-filled but apophenic song; in truth... it's arbitrariness that thrusts this orb along.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #266 on new numbering scheme)
The dragons don't consider facts, the unicorns demur; those mythic beasts will never care because their hearts are pure.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #265 on new numbering scheme)
I start by looking for some words in space's vast darkness but finding none, I turn instead to my own brain's grim mess.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #264 on new numbering scheme)
The cactuses have sown dissent debating cats at talks, whose doubts are drawn entangled from Schroedinger's litter box.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #263 on new numbering scheme)
The words just shivered on the page, The verbs in disrepair. The pronouns were disconsolate, The nouns limp with despair.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #262 on new numbering scheme)
"Philosophical zombie" is a concept you may know. I'd like to now propose a twist to how those stories go. Most typically these zombies are like strange automata. They act like people, react too - but it is just data. So nothing's felt and nothing's hoped; there is no inner spark. These zombies might seem like humans, but their sad minds are dark. Now here's the change I'd like to make: let's add a soul inside, but not connected to the flesh - it will only reside. Like those sad paralytics who stare helpless and afraid, this second mind lacks any link, must wait for any aid. So here's the first, with agency, the second with the why, together they must walk the earth, as we do, you and I.
– six quatrains in ballad meter – an essay on phenomenology in six stanzas.