Category Archives: Coronaverse

Bulking (HA 42 Treochair)

I learned to buy no more than what I need back when my besties burned to gather goods in bulk. They bought from big shelf names instead of neighborhoods. I’d deride, except I need to nix now, and stock what … Continue reading

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Titling (HA 41 Novelinee)

For over 40 days I’ve stayed inside, a senior with a bronchial history, and every day since this began, I’ve tried to pen a novel form of poetry. No sooner do I comprehend the drift of rules today for meter, … Continue reading

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House Arrest 40 (English Madrigal)

We can’t foresee the shape of what comes next. Prognostication’s eye is blurred with strain. “It could be worse” is everyone’s refrain. For now we have the Internet and text, connections to assuage the social brain. We can’t foresee the … Continue reading

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House Arrest 39 (Another Onion)

I had a fantasy, not long ago, in which I didn’t use the fridge at all. I live where nearly anything will grow; I thought I’d shop each day. And I recall when I transitioned to this little place, I … Continue reading

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House Arrest 38 (Magic 9)

The silver lining in a prison term is time for exercising brawn and brain. This sentenced House Arrest serves to confirm that: daily riding, daily trying out a puzzle of poetic form. I squirm at repetition, cringe at lines too … Continue reading

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House Arrest 37 (Strambotto Toscano)

I’m ready for our morning FaceTime session (I just completed all my exercises). The coffee’s poured – it’s now in Dad’s discretion to hook us up, for caution still advises we stay apart today. My flu confession: I miss so … Continue reading

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House Arrest 36 (Chanso)

There’s nothing fortunate about his stroke, except it happened twenty months ago, before Coronavirus came to choke the hospitals and propagate the woe. It would have been more challenging last year, when I was out of house all winter through. … Continue reading

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House Arrest 35 (Lai)

The morning cold here is spring atmosphere, and yet, as tulips appear and daffodils spear, we let our plans disappear, on pause most the year, upset.

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House Arrest 34 (English Madrigal)

There’s no place safe on earth. There never was. Our culture stalled beneath complacency, the base too broad for continuity. Some thought we were protected by our laws, but they’re committee-built stupidity. There’s no place safe on earth. There never … Continue reading

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House Arrest 33 (Self-Command)

Two hundred years ago, an English book employed vocabulary obsolete these days, or rare at least – we seldom look askance, or box some ears, or take conceit to mean idea – I’m sure you understand. I came on this … Continue reading

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