ㅁ I woke up quickly shocked out of an eerie dream but now I'm too slow
Category: My Poetry & Fiction
Caveat: Poem #1905 “Treehouse poem”
Caveat: Poem #1904 “On looking down”
ㅁ I'm up high, perched there in my treehouse. See, a mistake needs reversing. I've got to get one screw loose. Being so high is hard. I don't enjoy it. Still, I'm trying. "Don't look down." I say. Oops.
Caveat: Poem #1903 “Inverted triangle”
ㅁ Nonnets can start with syllable-hills, sequipedalianally, with well-entrained thoughts and words, but then metamorphize, into something tight and narrower difficult, gnomic, closed.
Caveat: Poem #1902 “What is haiku for?”
Caveat: Poem #1901 “Yes, that would be the best dream”
ㅁ If I could choose a certain dream I'd pick a house with halls - with corridors that never stopped, with decorated walls.
Caveat: Poem #1900 “Liminality”
ㅁ A state of liminality suspended me, alone, and slowly I returned to see I'd made my way back home.
Caveat: Poem #1899 “Weatherized”
ㅁ A branch flew past me borne by wind and landed on the ground. The trees were swinging left and right and making whooshing sounds.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
Caveat: Poem #1898 “A praise-poem”
ㅁ The time for poems is past for now, there's nothing new to say. The rain has tired of being praised, it's staying every day.
Caveat: Poem #1897 “Typically unreliable”
ㅁ The rain, it comes on even days and then it comes on odd; the weather site predicted sun - the forecasts, they are flawed.
Caveat: Poem #1896 “On why haiku are preferred”
Caveat: Poem #1895 “Someone else’s commute”
ㅁ Lights pass by bound for town in the predawn dodging the potholes plonking along loudly dispelling small bits of mist noticing reflective droplets suspended like shattered glass from leaves
Caveat: Poem #1894 “Some old military wisdom”
Caveat: Poem #1893 “My life’s plan”
ㅁ Up until now I have been... existing - just persisting. So but then, I'll do the same - up through when?
Caveat: Poem #1892 “Gangnam style”
ㅁ I took the subway into Gangnam's heart and walked up Teheranno, through the crowd, immersed in human restlessness, alone - until the dream unmade itself at dawn.
– a quatrain in blank verse (iambic pentameter).
Here is a picture of the familiar streetscape in Gangnam, Seoul, a few blocks north of the main subway station. I was here every day for a few months in 2010, when I was studying Korean language full-time. So it sometimes appears in dreams.
Caveat: Poem #1891 “Sunnahae sun”
ㅁ Dawn touched Sunnahae. The mountain glowed with fresh snow. I guess summer's done.
Caveat: Poem #1890 “Or you could just say he tripped and fell”
ㅁ The dark was absolute, obsessive, blind; it piled up like an angry ghost, dismissed, and lashing out it sent the author down till spinning like a leaf he tasted mud.
Caveat: Poem #1889 “The usual”
ㅁ The power went out at just after six. Day made a mix with the dusk, rain made rust.
Caveat: Poem #1888 “The wind”
ㅁ Wind will blow to arrange all the clouds. Wind will tug at the trees' branches. Wind rests among the mountains. Wind tests all the windows. Wind makes mournful sounds Wind speaks cliches of cold air; and rain blows.
Caveat: Poem #1887 “Meritocracy”
ㅁ Diligence doesn't result in success; luck plays a role when statistics regress: Random events and the spinnings of time; harsh distributions of reason and rhyme.
Caveat: Poem #1886 “Frames”
ㅁ Frames enclose images and suggest ways of looking at things, new angles, perspectives, on the same old world's contents, but it's all just a mental trick, a simple reframing, so to speak.
Caveat: Poem #1885 “Sun creeps southward”
ㅁ The equinox has passed, so... the dawn comes later, you know... I still get up early, though.
Caveat: Poem #1884 “For when the muses fail me”
ㅁ If I examine the art, study its patterns, each part, I find new memories start.
Caveat: Poem #1883 “Card catalog”
ㅁ My insomnia arrives, ruffles through my brain's archives; a fragment of dream survives.
Caveat: Poem #1882 “How the world works”
ㅁ The world pretends by rearranging things, by moving atoms constantly through arcs, through curves of time and space in ways that cause the ghosts of complex things to manifest.
– a philosophical quatrain in blank verse (iambic pentameter).
Caveat: Poem #1881 “Demiurges”
ㅁ All the streets seem real enough. The terrain is broken, rough. But it's all made of dream-stuff.
Caveat: Poem #1880 “Scary bear”
ㅁ The bear had crossed the river and looked up at the road, here; I saw it; made me shiver.
Caveat: Poem #1879 “Rain gauge”
ㅁ The guy said it's rained a lot; seventeen inches we've got; that is September's snapshot.
Caveat: Poem #1878 “Rainforest patterns”
ㅁ Why so much about the rain? You might ask. Well in this task, past the pain, I write what I see, again.
Caveat: Poem #1877 “The ghosts of slugs passed”
ㅁ The slugs, they race across the road with hopes, expecting to avoid the zooming cars; but now and then the tires take their toll, and leave a slug in ghost form, free at last.
Caveat: Poem #1876 “Forty-second stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon sat in the dark before dawn trying to focus her mind: where'd it gone? Time had been swallowed by efforts in vain; now all she had was the slow, quiet rain.
Caveat: Poem #1875 “Narratology”
ㅁ It's in the nature of narrative to ensnare imagination and launch brief detours of mind conjuring mental scenes vague speculations memories too more solid concrete thoughts
Caveat: Poem #1874 “My jawbone”
ㅁ The radiation weakened some bones. So the teeth on my lower jaw... well, they have difficulties. That's what the dentist said. She confirmed for me that which I knew already about bones.