As we reach height of “dry” season – ‘cane comes calling June Onest – smokygray plumes herebouts means Florida’s burning – again, like ’98 when one tv ‘porter went ga-ga and conspiracy-collator and years later wound up covering fakewarsinBalkans for CNN. Thems was times in which to hide your interest in a sock under a blanket under a mattress. Oh?! Nevermind: just more dense fog on I-4 just past Disney en route to TampaTrampleBay.

Cat Nap Revue

plumes of smoky gray
all along the pine ridges
sunrise fog burns off

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“Pattern Recollection?*” Tanka 2347

(May 23, 2019)


like someting

I did not write

but should

guilt grows

past envy

who slouches past


gives cheshire


*(Novelist William Gibson’s Pattern Recognition bounces between ears and caroms off the frontboard into a medulla-bucket for a set-shot sure to make Jimmy Naismith a Doctor.)

“Just What Dood I Did?”

(May 24, 2019)

five hours flinging words

noticed not the time as* flown

now, though, curious

*(When first looked, “as” had no “h” before and I almost inserted the missing “link,” but on further reflection, maybe the author wanted it that way. May Be. Time As Flown…depends on which direction how long it takes to arrive.)