Category: Nonnet

ㅁ
Dusk
comes late
as summer
begins chewing
at the cool edges
of rough spring. Already
many birds have things to say
and the clouds begin taking on
a polychrome luminosity.

– a reverse nonnet.

ㅁ
let's
forage
here and there
through shattered minds
across broken space
and hopefully begin
to find little, lost fragments
of blue, transcendent perception
scintillating in a rain puddle.

– a reverse nonnet.

(Poem #317 on new numbering scheme)

Kids:
open
young minds want
to receive what
they are taught but then
they get pulled away by
the pointless distractions that
culture endlessly gives to them
such that there's no room left for knowledge.

– a return to the nonnet form.

(Poem #116 on new numbering scheme)

Purge.
Remove.
Clarify.
Disassemble.
Sketch odd diagrams.
Display symbols in smoke.
Design eschatologies.
Retreat to a cave with shadows.
Then live as if all those things were true.

– a reverse nonnet

(Poem #115 on new numbering scheme)

Don't imagine some hidden meaning.
Interpret these signs easily.
Those shadows in the corner,
the patterns in the dust,
the smooth, red apple
perched on a shelf
symbolize
nothing.
Dream.

– a nonnet

(Poem #114 on new numbering scheme)

Cold is just a stillness of small things.
The vibrating atoms dance less.
The world's mind spins more slowly,
as motes of matter pause.
Nobody sees it happen.
But it happens.
Some frost forms.
Leaves rot.
Snow.

– a nonnet

(Poem #113 on new numbering scheme)

Pain made signs using nerves and neurons.
Then solitude replayed childhood
and sadness wrought joy. But joy
wrought sadness and childhood
replayed solitude.
Then neurons and
nerves using
signs made
pain.

– a nonnet

(Poem #112 on new numbering scheme)

"Boo,"
I said.
"I'm a ghost."
"You're not scary,"
my student complained.
"Aw, but really I'm dead,"
I cheerfully insisted.
"Why don't you believe your teacher?"
She wasn't buying it, however.

– a reverse nonnet

(Poem #111 on new numbering scheme)

Did you see the city wherein hid
multitudes despairing, its grid
teeming under sky, across
arms of the sea? And... did
you see who controlled
that sea? - I saw
wherein lurked
swimming
fish.

– a nonnet

(Poem #110 on new numbering scheme)

A toddler child is staggering along
with his mother and grandmother.
The mom patters on with words
- typical mother-speak.
She points at some man,
says, "Bye-bye hae."*
The boy smiles.
He says
"Ba!"

– a nonnet
* linguistic note: the borrowing from English, “bye” (and “bye-bye”), is pretty fully nativized in Korean, used as an informal farewell by many people. “Bye-bye hae [해]” would mean “say bye-bye.” Of course, in Korean pronunciation, “bye” is two full syllables, “ba-i” (and “bye-bye” is four), and that breaks my poem, but anyway the vowel break is elided and diphthongized, so I’m going with the English pronunciation I guess.

(Poem #109 on new numbering scheme)

Clouds
pile up
and they push
against the vague,
hazy horizons.
A wind from the northwest
grasps at the recumbent leaves
so that they panic and protest,
leaving them coldly disconsolate.

– a reverse nonnet

(Poem #108 on new numbering scheme)

Skulls
and bones
populate
the imagery
that drifts out, unsought,
from those contemplations
which accompany the fact
that the dead cat I saw just now
seemed to be merely in calm repose.

– a reverse nonnet

(Poem #107 on new numbering scheme)

Let's imagine a dystopia:
a strange future where things are weird.
Unconsciousness is a crime
punishable by death.
The authorities
dislike darkness.
Don't get caught
sleeping
now.

– a nonnet

(Poem #106 on new numbering scheme)

Students congregate along damp streets
like water droplets in a mist,
a brownian shivering
on Fall's first chill evening,
their various worries
floating on words
across gaps
between
them

– a nonnet

(Poem #105 on new numbering scheme)

Hi,
sad cat.
What is it?
Did you get lost?
... looks like you're hungry.
I'm afraid to touch you.
You might carry some disease.
I saw you begging from those kids,
earlier. You seemed to be happy.

– a reverse nonnet

(Poem #104 on new numbering scheme)

Nothing comes easily, you know.
Well, I admit, I can forget
this terrible frustration
sometimes. Nevertheless,
simple stuff feels like
trying to make
a new poem
out of
dirt.

– a nonnet
[daily log: walking, 1km]

(Poem #103 on new numbering scheme)

A strange madness took hold of his mind.
He believed he was made of glass.
"Please, do not touch me," he begged.
He made the best of it,
though, declaring that
transparency
was more pure;
the soul,
clear.

– a nonnet

(Poem #102 on new numbering scheme)

I saw a scary caterpillar
throbbing across the dull asphalt:
a green fragment of muscle,
alive like a zombie's,
step, step, step, step, step.
The little feet
writhe toward
waving
grass.

– a nonnet

(Poem #101 on new numbering scheme)

One day, an imaginary man
went to Duluth, seeking stories.
He stood on the mythic shore.
Gray-green waves gnawed the sand.
Some black flies spun doubts.
He built machines
with his words.
The lake
watched.

– a nonnet

(Poem #100 on new numbering scheme)

A failure of communication
with a few of my coworkers
caused me to tell a student
with a confident voice
the exact wrong thing.
She cried, asking,
"Teacher, why
did you
lie?"

– a nonnet

(Poem #99 on new numbering scheme)

As a first step, they cut out my tongue.
They removed the tumor, of course.
Then they put my tongue back in.
Nerves and vessels were fixed:
pieces of my arm
were repurposed.
So that was
a hard
year.

– a nonnet

(Poem #98 on new numbering scheme)

Trees
announce
silhouettes
and glibly grope
the impatient sky,
meanwhile insisting that
the greedy earth release them
so that they can then levitate,
but gravity's passion is too strong.

– a reverse nonnet

(Poem #97 on new numbering scheme)

As I do with regularity,
I rearranged my furniture
after getting home from work
yesterday afternoon.
I made piles of books.
The couch got turned.
Hordes of dust
bunnies
died.

– a nonnet

(Poem #96 on new numbering scheme)

These recent days of hazy weather
give midday sun a sunset feel,
so fall in Daehan Minguk
becomes, through memory,
pale Tenochtitlan
in mid Winter,
and the air
tastes like
gold.

– a nonnet

(Poem #95 on new numbering scheme)

Rock!
It hurts.
It's moving.
Is it gone now?
No. Now it hurts more.
It jumped into my shoe.
I'll have to stop at that bench;
sit down and try to fish it out.
I've changed geologic history.

– a reverse nonnet

(Poem #94 on new numbering scheme)

Id,
ego -
both divine -
vagrant thoughts seek
apotheosis,
but meaning's in decline;
instead we make apopheny.
Behold the landscape: green blurs, black lines.

– a reverse nonnet

(Poem #93 on new numbering scheme)

START: I was walking and smelled woodsmoke.
That, and damp streets, brought memories:
high school and the Pacific
fog and walks and nights
at a computer
crafting programs
like mazes.
GOTO
START

– a nonnet

(Poem #92 on new numbering scheme)

Babbling silently at the heavens,
an orange half moon gave solace
to no one, not even me.
The evening was chilly.
I was not saddened.
Souls did not dance.
Liminal
lurkings
flowed.

– a nonnet

(Poem #91 on new numbering scheme)

cars
buildings
traffic lights
i see these things
government and hope
corruption and despair
these things are invisible
all of these are immanences
they emerge wholly formed from our minds

– a reverse nonnet

I wrote eight nonnets as a connected narrative. I post them here, all at once. I think you might already know the story.
(Poem #90 on new numbering scheme)

The open fields.
"Hey.
I'm through."
His hands shook.
"I don't get it."
Cain was so angry.
The Boss didn't listen.
Instead, the Boss turned away.
This just made Cain feel angrier.
"Why am I submitting these reports?"
"Nice."
He grinned.
He looked up.
The Boss was pleased.
Abel thanked his Boss.
"I worked so hard on that."
"It shows. You did very well."
Cain watched, beyond the cubicle.
"This really isn't fair," he muttered.
"What?"
"Please wait."
The Boss paused.
"OK. What now?"
Cain said, "Can we talk?"
The Boss shrugged. "Don't bother."
"You know the problem," he said.
"Your anger crouches, there. Own it."
Cain was stricken, and he skulked away.
"Look.
Let's meet."
Cain gestured.
"Maybe later."
His brother nodded.
"I'll call you, when I'm done."
Later, he called his brother.
"How about we go for a walk?"
"Sounds good," the other said. "I'll be there."
The two took the El down to the end.
There were some open fields around.
They walked amid the rubble.
The older brother swung.
He hadn't planned to.
His anger won.
Cain saw blood.
He cried.
"Hell."
The next day, the Boss called Cain, at nine.
He answered his phone, feeling dread.
"Where's your brother?" the Man asked.
"How would I know?" Cain said.
The Boss was silent.
"It's not my job."
Cain went on.
"I mean."
"Right?"
Another call came, some hours later.
The police had found the body.
They added up two and two.
Cain was soon arrested.
The Boss was there too.
"Well that was dumb."
He shook his head.
"You blew it."
Cain stared.
Sighed.
A few years later, Cain was homeless.
His lawyer had gotten him off.
The trial was a circus.
It consumed his money.
But his guilt plagued him.
Cain crouched, sobbing.
"I'm stupid."
He spat.
"Why?"

– 4 reverse nonnets and 4 regular nonnets

(Poem #89 on new numbering scheme)

Some
nonnet:
I wrote it
in an effort
to improve my skills,
capture the world I see,
increase my self discipline,
and express my shifting feelings
regarding the meaning of my life.

– a reverse nonnet

(Poem #88 on new numbering scheme)

Dream:
I lay
fearfully
- my mind empty -
under a table.
I was only a child.
Other children yelled at me.
I felt compelled to speak to them,
but no words came out - I'd become mute.

– a reverse nonnet