ㅁ a truck trundles by along that pothole-pocked road smashing through the slush
– a pseudo-haiku.
Category: My Poetry & Fiction
Caveat: Poem #954 “As raindrops will do”
ㅁ the sounds of raindrops stabbing at the pale windows caressing the trees
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #953 “The alien met along the road”
I set aside my thoughts, just walking. The alien along the road appeared and gave me pause, his talking - his soulless pleadings - like a code made up of tangled verbs and meanings from which I got the barest gleanings. I followed through an open gate, his gestures seemed to show we're late, how could I know, could he be trusted? In dark and looming halls we roamed, his pointless words spilled out and foamed. We stopped beside machines, all rusted. And he explained what he had planned, but still I didn't understand.
– some kind of sonnet
Caveat: Poem #952 “Savings”
ㅁ With parsimony, the sky brightened an hour late: I saved some daylight
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #951 “Settling in for a siege”
ㅁ some clouds came along and they set up battlements on the hills' ridges
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #950 “Misanthropy”
ㅁ When people annoy I turn to my computer and program something.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #949 “Among shadows”
ㅁ Outside my window, western hemlocks tower and confront the clear air while stale snow begins to melt. But in shadows it's cool; amid broad blue skies there are all these disturbing, brooding doubts.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #948 “Beyond nothing”
ㅁ Got nothing but dawn nothing but a pink hillside nothing, just some trees
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #947 “Discarded”
ㅁ the deer didn't need... the ravens used and were done... so it lay in snow.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #946 “A color among others”
ㅁ Blue mooncraters embedded in ice. Blue sky overhead making light. Blue tickmarks counting the hours. Blue ice, scored by the stones. Blue, baroque bubbles. Blue curvatures. Blue, broken. Blue thoughts. Blue.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #945 “The present moment”
ㅁ Your age is the point where your past meets your future and you decide stuff.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #944 “Missing”
So I attempt to move ahead, to set aside the brooding things, but moods assert and dwell like dead - like ghosts adrift on empty wings. The spider webbing fills my head with self recriminations, rings of cloudy doubts and dreams, all led across landscapes controlled by kings who rule the shifting realms unsaid and quite unsayable, till springs snap shut and render into dread. Perhaps in moving forward, then I'll figure out solutions. When?
– some kind of sonnet, but it’s missing a line. Badly wrought.
Caveat: Poem #943 “A career’s progression”
ㅁ From high ambition, I traipse through unmade countries, to disappointment.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #942 “The morning’s weather”
ㅁ well there's some coffee nice when you wake so early the trees are not still
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #941 “Dawn does her thing”
ㅁ dawn climbs over here leaving behind over there licking her fingers
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #940 “Under cover of darkness”
ㅁ Before dawn we went and pulled the boat out and up; the light struck water.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #939 “The oatmeal”
ㅁ Oatmeal for breakfast which has become the habit - that and my window.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #938 “Better known as rocks”
ㅁ the demons dwell there those spaces beside potholes snapping at machines
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #937 “Things to see in the morning”
ㅁ The mountain is pink where the gold sun finds its snows and the air shivers.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #936 “The grid”
ㅁ they said he was bad disliking his love of rules he drew lines through space
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #935 “A limited vocabulary”
ㅁ The snow turns to rain; rain turns to snow turns to rain; winter spits its spite.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #934 “Triumph”
ㅁ The rain falls on snow A creek sings exultations Water over ice
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #933 “Competence deferred”
ㅁ My mood plunged in the wake of events: A machine refuses to work. I'm not so mechanical... At least, not as I'd like. So a gloom descends: A rain on snow - Insistent - Melting Drifts.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #932 “Impotent”
ㅁ The saw wouldn't work. Frustration overtook me. I stood in the snow.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #931 “A cool reception”
ㅁ The moon approached dispassionately, with not a glance to either side. A hoary cloud floated by, blurring her pocked, pale face. The earth ignored her, preoccupied with winter and ice. Cool.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #930 “The text”
ㅁ Is it possible to write poems about the sprawling internet? All the seething, grasping text that underlies a world - an engineered mind - a clockwork brain: idiot savant soul.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #929 “A winter calm”
ㅁ The atmosphere tastes like frozen grapes and snow conceals the doubtful path. I step forward, then sideways. A bird rushes by me. The hill hides the sun but the sky's blue. A branch snaps. Silent place.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #928 “Tracks of white”
ㅁ Yesterday it snowed from dawn to dusk. So I stayed in for the morning. I thought the firewood could wait. Fat flakes fell on windows. Still, I took a walk. The road was white. I left tracks, Saw trees, trudged.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #927 “As machines will do”
ㅁ Bits of shredded trees all embedded in slopes of frozen mud and snow testify to the assaults committed by machines impelled by profits hungry for wood devouring churning wants.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #926 “Domain survey”
ㅁ The eagle circled round and landed in a hemlock by the river. Yellow beak and white head spun. A branch shuddered and swayed. So the raven swooped, changing her spot from a rock to a pine.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #925 “The bones bide their time”
ㅁ The bones inside my head sit and wait. They enclose my meditations, Covered in muscle and skin. But they will have their day. These bones will emerge. Time removes flesh. They'll become Empty, White.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #924 “On pause”
ㅁ Sun and blue skies: an aberration. The rainforest is stilled by cold. In winter, here, clouds protect. They deliver slow rain. Without them, skies clear. The heat escapes. Snow lingers. Deer hide. Frost.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #923 “A semantic hydrology”
ㅁ Words plow down hillsides and bore tunnels. They carve canyons in melting snow. Semantic rivulets form. The sun glints off meanings. Shadows are dispelled. Bits of ice melt. Ideas. Water. Thought.
– a nonnet.