Notices by Dave Bonta (davebonta@mastodon.sdf.org), page 2

It’s annoying when poetry plods or philosophy leaps. Poetry should leap. Philosophy should plod.

Overcast but brightening. Snow birds are moving through the half-bare lilac, exchanging notes. Titmice and chickadees forage in the thinning birches.

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Overcast but brightening. Snow birds are moving through the half-bare lilac, exchanging notes. Titmice and chickadees forage in the thinning birches.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159130004/

Some rainy-day musings on
#poetry culture and #careerism https://davebonta.com/2023/10/ambition-without-careerism/

Ambition without careerism

I need to stop saying I’m not ambitious about poetry. I am actually highly ambitious… for my writing.

https://davebonta.com/2023/10/ambition-without-careerism/

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The pleasing monotony of a cold autumn rain, drowning out all other sound except for a low throbbing in the distance. Leaves fall drunkenly, careening this way and that.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159130003/

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Six degrees above freezing and clear at sunrise. The spicebushes next to the road are at their most luminous yellow. Chipmunks tick like asynchronous clocks.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159130002/

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Under a thin grin of moon, the maples reclaiming their red. Three crows wake up with awe in their throats.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159130001/

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Within the moon’s crescent, its dark bulk is aglow—a reminder that Earth is still, somehow, a source of light. A towhee calls twice and goes back to sleep.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159130000/

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An hour before dawn, the crescent moon hangs just above the ridge, with Venus blazing like a campfire through the trees. It's cold. An inversion layer brings the sound of every engine waking in the valley.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159129997/

A new walking poem https://www.vianegativa.us/2023/10/above-the-river-2/

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Windy and cold. In the wall of leaves at the woods’ edge, the first few fragments of what will be my winter sky.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159129995/

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Rain clouds moving out by mid-morning, when blue sky appears, revealing a higher layer of cirrus moving west while shreds of cumulus keep flying east.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159129994/

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Heavily overcast—what the weather app calls “light rain”—with a crow yelling in the distance and a yellow-bellied sapsucker mewing like a kitten.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159129993/

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Half an hour past sunrise and the birds are quiet. All along the woods’ edge, yellow leaves are falling by ones and twos. The smell of burning plastic.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159129992/

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Half moon high overhead at 5:00, half-illuminating the ground fog and darkening the shadows into which walnuts thud down.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159129991/

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Moon above, mist below, and the treetops shot with sun. Jays call back and forth, acorns filling the pouches in their throats.

https://morningporch.com/2023/10/159129990/

@mattblaze Yeah, everything's gotta have a month now. Weeks just don't cut it.

One fun thing I've learned about propaganda is how readily its marks become its most fervent believers... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zf5xEBwBhds

@mattblaze Tom Lehrer had something to say about that back in the sixties: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aIlJ8ZCs4jY&t=1s