ㅁ The haikus were thrown across the landscape like seeds but few set down roots
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ wingsnake came dark, lighting and clouds and rain monkey and raven grinned and danced benevolent orca sailed the surrounding sea when monkey killed the wingsnake at deity encompassing darkness's garden tree the wingsnake was not dead but burrowed down the monkey was hunted, deity darkness was deceived by wingsnake monkey fled to the mountain raven made a plan with monkey but first needed orca's help trick orca into bringing the sun and they make humans from moss and discarded bones deity darkness is defeated but each year returns in the beginning the sea serpents had wings
– a free-form poem. I wrote this sometime around 2016 – it is an outline of some cosmological material for my imaginary world called Mahhal. I recently found it in some old notes (having forgotten about it).
ㅁ After a few days of cold, the weather shifted, got bold, and a steady snow took hold.
– an englyn milwr.
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.
ㅁ The dead congregated here, among trees, and your unease, even fear... it fed them and kept them near.
– an englyn penfyr.
ㅁ The ice along the seashore spoke out loud lamenting its abandonment, alone: the tide had left it broken on the rocks. A duck approached, and clambered on the ice, assessed the scene, and looked askance, dismayed: but in the end turned tail and swam away.
– six lines of blank verse (iambic pentameter).
ㅁ Everything becomes quite slow, the world rests, the weather tests... tries to show how things go.
– an englyn cil-dwrn.
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.
ㅁ Kiamon made an attempt to control feelings and impulses roiling her soul; but in the end she gave up and just sighed somehow the will in her body had died.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
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.
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.
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.
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.
ㅁ It seems that the key is to time it precisely: enlightened at death. It would be easy: approximate asymptote, like Zeno's story. Perhaps many folks succeed in this task. Indeed... maybe all do it.
– three pseudo-haiku as stanzas in a longer poem.
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.
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.
ㅁ A deer just stood there. It wondered why I stood there. Beings... standing there.
– a pseudo-haiku.
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.
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.
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.