a balloon of dialogue

There should be something said for today, for Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday as well—but what can one add to a list of mundane activities which have already been expressed?

• resolved a poem

• began another

• reworked a manuscript

• purchased more books: Faulkner, Doty, Heaney, Collins

• submitted poems

• the pain in my right leg persists—a dull ache

•107/ He has stopped writing haiku. Momentarily. However, the habitual five-seven-five rule still lingers in his head, so at times he talks with an awkward rhythm, his mouth seeking out a stronger pattern to release an epiphany midair, so he can watch the letters forming about his head as a Sunday feature comic strip, an adventure fantasy, the protagonist-hero with an expression of pain muttering a broken onomatopoeia, a scattering of phonetics appearing above his head in a balloon of dialogue: Uuuffff–! Yet, the pain is a deception, a trick weakness to capture the main conflict in a moment of false-superiority, the villain’s pride painted across a smug antagonistic face as he confesses all of his goals to the humbled hero collapsed at his feet, the hero waiting for the right moment to react, to topple over the criminal, reclaiming his right for glory—
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