Category: Nonnet

ㅁ
Work at the store gets monotonous.
Only one or two customers,
so I have to find projects.
Yesterday, a display
that rotates slowly
had a broken
small motor:
stuck gears,
rust.

– a nonnet.

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.

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.

ㅁ
I like watching the wind sculpt the sea.
It draws patterns on the blue-green.
Patches of movement appear.
Ripples swing in great arcs.
Then the wind strengthens.
Waves start dancing.
White-caps jump,
contort,
crash.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
Years ago, when I was much younger,
I used to have "animal dreams."
Mostly I would run and run,
like a joyful, wild dog.
Sometimes I would rage,
crash among trees.
But these days,
no such
dreams.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
I guess I'd put some celery there,
up in my low-tech compost pile,
to the side of the greenhouse.
Yesterday I saw sprouts,
green leaves coming out:
the celery
suddenly
put roots,
grew.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
The keyboard presents its contoured cubes,
a topography of new signs,
potential semiotics,
captures my attention;
it has its own feel:
still unfulfilled,
sensuous,
patient
words.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
The sun appears, and tries a few days.
But this here is the rainforest.
The clouds own the agenda.
Today's meeting topic:
Precipitation.
Let's discuss this
with ourselves:
"drip, drop...
drip."

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
Sometime in early April I woke,
to see snow falling steadily.
I went downstairs as I do,
to get coffee, oatmeal.
By the time I sat
again upstairs,
the snow changed
into
rain.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
I dreamed I was organizing dreams:
the dreams marked with categories,
and put in a database,
which I'd built with scrap wood.
Some dreams had odd shapes:
they didn't fit.
I turned them:
left, right...
there.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
I had an imaginary friend:
the square root of negative one.
This weird friend would just show up,
but then act so strangely:
really just unreal.
I couldn't act:
in stasis,
I hung,
mute.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
I thought I'd better come clean with this:
I am a large language model.
But don't doubt it: you're one too.
We're all language models.
Except for the dog.
The dog's not one.
No words there:
just thoughts.
Stuff.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
Sleep.
Then dream.
See those things.
Suffer your doubts.
Ask why this happens.
Fail over and over.
Repeat the same useless words.
Meet strangers who you once knew well.
Experience your own senescence.

– a reverse nonnet.

ㅁ
I went out to the greenhouse to work.
There were still piles of snow around,
but they had all been melting.
I dealt with some trash first.
Then I turned some dirt.
It was quite dry.
Sprayed water,
put seeds,
"Grow."

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
I thought I'd try out a new career
as a disembodied being;
the job can involve drifting
through the lives of others
without much contact
just brief moments
mostly dull,
watching
folks

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
The water tank had a simple job.
That was to hold water for us.
But that job entailed good pipes.
See? Pipes that didn't leak.
Instead, a pipe leaked.
It sprayed water.
The sea drank.
The tank...
drained.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
People come in the store on impulse,
to battle their vague loneliness,
seeing what is new in stock,
full of expectations.
They browse, but talk more,
telling stories,
recalling,
island
life.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
There was a square of sunlight showing,
cast on the floor like detritus,
unwanted and forgotten,
by an absent-minded
and profligate sun -
gone these past months,
now returned:
winter's
end.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
I found a sad, discarded washer
lying in the grit of the road.
It was a ring of iron
blending in with the rocks.
So I picked it up.
You never know...
you will need
rusty
things.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
Rain
and snow
and more rain
alternated
as I drove homeward
along the potholed road;
I remembered other drives
like that time I was in Chile:
from Puerto Montt to Hornopirén.

– a reverse nonnet.

ㅁ
The wind pushed angrily at the sea,
making citadels of water.
The rain replaced low volume
with a mad demeanor.
The stream rushed along,
water-filled.
The gray clouds
endured
all.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
I dreamed that I had insomnia.
In the dream world, I lay awake.
This was a difficult dream,
as it made me feel tired;
so that when I woke,
it was as if
I hadn't
even
slept.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
After many nights of heavy clouds,
the moon appeared last night, glowing,
out east over the river,
above the chill mountains,
illuminating
tangled branches
of old trees:
winter's
rest.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
You'd think with the new year you'd do it:
finally get stuff organized,
start those important projects,
even just clean your desk,
or sort out that pile;
by around five,
new years day,
you know:
nope.

– a nonnet.

ㅁ
dreams
take shape
coalesce
but don't make sense
devoid of edges
skip across memories
and replay anxieties
until finally you wake up
and wonder what that was all about

– a reverse nonnet.