Untitled An hour past sunrise, there's a growing radiance as blue sky spreads in the west. Even after all these years of wildlife-watching, I can't stop marvelling at the acrobatics and shenanigans of gray squirrels.

Clinton will never stop being disappointed in people for having the wrong opinions. She is the purest distillation of liberal elitist condescension. Good of her to drop the mask of enlightened centrist long enough for erstwhile fans to perceive her true imperialist sociopathy.

Untitled The clouds begin to thin by mid-morning, lightening the gloom. The hollow hulk of a dead maple next to the road emits nuthatch calls.

barefoot through the snow black bear #haiku #monoku

Untitled Light snow falling at sunrise—enough to obscure the identity of a line of tracks emerging from under the house. In the patch of dead bracken, one frond sways gently on its stalk.

I tried to look at the past 13,000 years of beer brewing from a bird's eye perspective. That leads to some reflections I certainly didn't expect. A simple way to put it: there are three kinds of beer, but not the ones you expect. www.garshol.priv.no/blog/439.html

Untitled White ground and a white sky, with only the trees to keep them apart. The squirrels are still avoiding the snowy sides of limbs, except when they need a spot to sit and work on a nut.

out walking

Untitled A dawn bright with snowlight, the storm a kind of theater in which the play consists of a thin white curtain falling and falling. As the temperature inches up, the flakes begin to fatten. A squirrel dashes to the end of a limb on its snow-free underside to pluck one of the last unfallen…

This week in the poetry blogs with @victoriamoul.bsky.social @robmclennan.bsky.social @emmalee1.bsky.social @kimmoorepoet.bsky.social @kent-nj.bsky.social @beckyltuch.bsky.social @robin-gow-poet.bsky.social @matriches.bsky.social 1/3 www.vianegativa.us/2025/12/poet...

Untitled Heavily overcast, with a brief insinuation of pink at two minutes till sunrise. The fluting of tundra swans draws my eye to a high, ragged convoy just disappearing over the ridge.

Untitled Gloomy and still. The faint rattle of something like rain, that soon turns into something like snow and peters out. A distant honking of geese.

Untitled Gloomy and still for the opening day of regular firearms season for deer. Every ten minutes or so, another boom. A raven flies over with another in close pursuit emitting what sounds like harsh laughter.

Untitled Almost all this morning's voices belong to the wind, except for the nasal chirps of a white-breasted nuthatch somewhere. Snow flies back and forth, never seeming to land.

Untitled Heavy gray skies and a bitter wind drop snowflakes in my lap—little six-spoked wheels. A red squirrel at the edge of the porch looks annoyed to find me in its seat.

Untitled The rain peters out not long after sunrise. Fog retreats up the hill. A ladybird beetle wanders the folds of my barn coat.

Beautiful thought and writing. I feel so good after reading the Digest. Giving thanks to Dave!

Untitled Light rain as the sky grows light. Two screech owls call back and forth, trill answering quaver, just as the Carolina wrens do a few minutes later.

This week in the poetry blogs w/ @shawnalemay.bsky.social @robmclennan.bsky.social @wendypratt.bsky.social @hanvanderhart.bsky.social @richardjnewman.bsky.social @pearlpoet.bsky.social @billymills.bsky.social @kent-nj.bsky.social @salenagodden.bsky.social 1/3 www.vianegativa.us/2025/11/poet...

Untitled Cloudless and still, except for the Amish men with nail guns firing into the roof of my mother's house. The sun clears the ridge. A saw sinks its teeth into a two-by-four.

Untitled Overcast at sunrise, with just three small clouds turning pink. The top roof drips dew onto the porch roof: a rhythmless percussion. Each time I look up from my book, there's more blue.

Untitled Drizzle at sunrise. Rain-slick tree trunks shine in their green sleeves of lichen. The sky shows signs of breaking up.

autumn deepens

Untitled Thick fog. A screech owl trills, seemingly in answer to the wren. Then crows join the chat. The owl's trilling pauses, then resumes a quarter mile away.

Untitled Freezing fog that lifts after sunrise into a gray woolen sky, leaving frosted branches for the squirrels—gray or red, cautious or pell-mell.

Untitled An inch of wet snow, glowing like a second sky on every branch and twig. I catch a rare whiff of sewage from the treatment plant three miles away.

Untitled Cold and still. A sky etched with faintly pink contrails. The song sparrows sing in fragments, while the white-throated sparrows merely chirp.

This week in the poetry blogs with @roguestrands.bsky.social @robmclennan.bsky.social @mcrucefix.bsky.social @emmalee1.bsky.social @chaucercameron.bsky.social @kent-nj.bsky.social @robin-gow-poet.bsky.social @victoriamoul.bsky.social 1/3 www.vianegativa.us/2025/11/poet...

Over here, past midday, sun's lazy low, but still bright sharp through the now naked branches of November. Dunnocks, coal tits, and a robin - strutting like a blushed Napoleon - flick through the sunflower shells.

Untitled Partly clear and windy at sunrise. A sharp-shinned hawk comes in low over the houses, immediately attracts the attention of crows, and flees back north with three in hot pursuit.

Untitled Wind and clouds and the clattering of treetops rocking out of sync. Two squirrels hunting the last unfallen acorns keep climbing into the top branches of a big red oak, hanging by their hind legs to peel their prizes.

NO LIES TOLD

#Wengrow/ #Graeber on pre-Columbian cultures. I think the Tlaxcalans knew the score–

I... forgot about Bad Brains?! But damn, 30+ years later, their music has aged WELL, y'all www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5Wk...

5️⃣ JD Vance's half-brother, Cory Bowman, was crushed in his challenge Cincinnati's Democratic mayor Aftab Pureval. His loss was unsurprising in this blue-leaning city. But he lost 78% to 22%: That's the biggest margin in a mayoral race in Cincy since it started electing mayors directly in 2001.

Untitled A raven with something red in its beak. Three running deer causing a fourth to raise and lower her tail. Patches of gold appear among the clouds.

current mood www.youtube.com/watch?v=skn3...

Untitled Frosty and still at dawn. A hunter's flashlight ascends a ridgetop tree and goes out, subsumed by the crescent moon's open parenthesis.

I saw Napalm Death in 1991 and they were exactly like this. Just, you know, young. www.youtube.com/watch?v=GElf...

Untitled Cold and mostly clear. An occasional sound of trains or traffic rises above the shush of wind. A single red cloud scuds overhead and disappears off east.

Trump's upcoming National Security Strategy identifies the "homeland" as its top priority (above even China!) sources who have seen the strategy tell me: www.kenklippenstein.com/p/ice-nation...

Untitled Cold and gray, with the wind hissing through the last few oak leaves still on the trees. The male Carolina wren sleeps in past his mate, her 'response' preceding his call by nearly five minutes.

Untitled A bitter wind has brought the first, thin snowfall. I open my folding seat cushion and find a yellow leaf nestled like a letter in an envelope.

This week in the poetry blogs w/ @suefinch.bsky.social @velveteenrabbi.bsky.social @linarvitvideopoet.bsky.social @mcrucefix.bsky.social @emmalee1.bsky.social @jwikeley.bsky.social @kimmoorepoet.bsky.social @richardjnewman.bsky.social @shotscarecrow.bsky.social 1/4 www.vianegativa.us/2025/11/poet...

Untitled Fine flakes falling from a mottled gray sky. At the bottom of the hollow, two trains whistle the crossing at once, one high, one low.

Untitled Thick fog. When the wren stops singing, there's dead silence for several minutes until a nuthatch calls. From father away, the death-cry of a rabbit.

Untitled Mostly clear after last night's rain. A flat-tire moon hangs low in the west. The wingbeats of a raven are, for a few moments, the loudest sound.

We’re thrilled to share our Autumn 2025 Edition 🍂 - With 334 voices from 38 countries, this collection captures autumn’s glow, hush, and turning light. Take a moment, #read, and connect. #haiku #newpoetry waleshaikujournal.com/autumn2025

Untitled Cold and still. The sun is a bright smudge slowly shrinking into a blaze as the clouds thin out. A train horn blows an almost perfect minor chord.

Judge McConnell basically walked them through the math, called all their arguments bullshit, and entered the order that the gov't stop playing games with the money while kids go hungry. Didn't even give the gov't the chance to respond.