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.
Category: Nonnet
Caveat: Poem #2363 “The weather report”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2353 “Unfair illusions”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2347 “Old habits”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2343 “Irresolute”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2333 “The horse already left the barn”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2329 “An ode to cold air”
ㅁ the endless cycle of rain and snow suddenly ended yesterday and then the air from Yukon pushed down from the northeast and dappled the sea with bits of ice which floated catching light
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2326 “The infinite old house makes another archetypal appearance”
ㅁ My dreams were blurry with ice and snow but within was complex plumbing solving unknowable things among the rocks and mud and wooden pillars that underlay an old house without end.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2324 “Ode to a road suspended in the moment of water’s phase-transition”
ㅁ Rain added slippery contributions to the road's packed snow; nothing really melts much, but nor does it truly freeze, instead you get a joyful slush that makes your driving a stressful thing.
– a reverse nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2323 “And the world was frozen”
ㅁ The dog and I walked up ten-mile hill. Our breath made wisps in the cold air, like hieroglyphic wind-signs on ancient codices. The dog pushed her nose into snowbanks, detecting silent mice.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2318 “Back at the store”
ㅁ Norma came into the store today. She told me she'd missed me a lot. I do her framing projects, she had brought a new one. She's an old woman. Then she announced she'd been sick: a small stroke
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2312 “A walk down to the river”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2311 “Actually, this place is mainly just doors”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2308 “A detailed summary of events”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2306 “Our relations with ourselves”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2304 “Fade out”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2303 “A great expanse”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2302 “In the light”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2301 “A barrier”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2298 “The signifying regime”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2272 “Programming”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2263 “Diary”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2262 “Turns out…”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2255 “Uninsulated”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2254 “Boat maintenance report”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2252 “An errand”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2251 “Lost treasure”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2250 “In darkness”
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.
Caveat: Poem #2249 “Return”
ㅁ Mostly in town, I don't see eagles. But high over the parking lot, a single-minded eagle swooped down from a treetop, sighting a nice snack, or just for show, in morning's drizzly mist.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2248 “Tourist town, off-season”
ㅁ Dull. Quiet. Standing there. No one came in. I vacuumed the floor. Outside the town was dead. I had no framing to do. The store was quite unpopular. The whole day, we had five customers.
– a reverse nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2175 “What a pane”
ㅁ Yesterday, I made my first window for my many-angled treehouse. Of course it is imperfect. But I put in some glass, applied some putty quite messily, and looked out at blue sea.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2174 “Recipe”
ㅁ Yesterday, I made some fish curry. I started making curry paste, with the mortar and pestle I'd bought in Korea; then I fry onion with zucchini, tomato, last, add fish.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #2173 “Snufflebeast”
ㅁ dog snuffles down the road smelling flowers... gotta smell that tree! oh, here's a piece of trash! nice, a mud puddle to drink! oh, look, a bee to try to eat! yikes! ouch. that bee is not so tasty.
– a reverse nonnet.