23. Transformations / haiku sentence

After five (?), six (?), seven (?) years of growing out an American Civil War era beard, I savagely cut it back, minimized the scale to a modest goatee. The action was instinctual. Without provocation or motivation from outside sources. (Part of me worried about the potential for carrying airborne germs. Part of me considered cosmetic alteration to youthful embellishments.) Nonetheless, my jawline and cheeks feel oddly lighter—now a soft breath of winter exists in the various rooms of the house. As close to developing a new look, new design. Same me.
•••An old character came to mind tonight: my Gothboy protagonist from a series of haiku experiments. I never felt a sense of closure to his story in the ongoing verses. So, I dug out the file folder, again. Planning on revisiting and finalizing a cluster of 100 or 200 more stanzas over the summer. With Brendan approaching ten years, I feel more freedom for expanded projects. He spends time on his own more frequently as of late. Developing his own sense of independence.
•••

•••On whim—yet, one more—purchased I Heard the Owl Call My Name. Since watching the television movie as a boy, there are currently details missing from memory, chunks of details from the protagonist priest’s life missing. The book is still recommended for diverse reasons; I found many positive reviews from contemporary readers. Want to compare it with Louise Erdrich and her book, The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse.

And too, I want to expand the World Literature course for 2021, include more contemporary Native American writers. Compare the images they produce within their writings against the white-majority. Have the students examine the possibilities for Anglo-American writers to compose material without appropriation of another culture.
•••Sense of hope: new poems developing.

It's really tomorrow. Not Wednesday, but April 30, Thursday. That alone should warrant a haiku, you know? Perhaps even with the same pacing and diction—

      (5)     Not a Wednesday but
      (7)     Thursday; Skewed timeline merging;
      (3)     with fresh haiku
      (5)     fresh lines of haiku
•••••
866. Not Wednesday, but Thursday; skewed timelines merging—fresh lines of haiku.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
playing with the haiku form— @HaikuSentence