Late night fibonacci

In
spä-
ter Nacht
treibt es auf
milchigem Mondlicht,
badet in blassem Gold, das Gedicht.

Submitted the English original to the bilingual Garden of Confusion by mistake, so the German goes here for a change.

Your moonstruck Lenny Blumfeld, author of this wind-down fibonacci (as opposed to the warm-ups I practiced a few times before).

All work, no blog

Oh life
could be
so much
blog w/o
work

In this cyber day and age we have finally come to realize that we were meant to do one thing: blog.

How I pity those umpteen million years manwomankind had to suffer through without access to blogging. All they had back then was blabbing.

Your always pilosopically meandering L.B.

BTW: The weather angels have put on another smiling face.

Bout to go out for lunch

¡Nada más!

Haven't even decided where to go, Indian is topmost in my mind.

There's a great Sri Lankan/South Indian restaurant in the neighborhood, but some people I know are boycotting it because of an unfriendly "Chinese-looking" waiter. He could be Indian, from one of the Northeastern States bordering Myanmar, like Manipur, Nagaland, Mizoram.

Bamboo forest in Mizoram

This is definitely blabla, but also close to nothingness apart from showing off my shining knowledge of some more obscure geographical areas.

Perdóname.

Su humilde servidor,

Leonardo Flores

Chewin' n' bloggin'

I'll say!
Maximum efficiency, multitasking, whatnot!

Utterances of existence spat out, so to spit, on the run.

The roving, raging, ranting reporter.

So why's this so lame & tame?

I'll tell you, Lem, because it don't have nothin' to tell!

Said some critical alter ego with a firmly grounded eye.

By the way: the weather is laudable, even though a bit reticent with warmth.

You ain't no real Saint Francis

said the blackbird
I talked to
this morning,
dropped a turd
and flew on
to the next branch.

– Len Blumfeld

Note
All true! I did not make this up.

Sunday morning coming down

Some pets seemed to love this sunny Sunday morning just as much as I did.

On my walk I counted at least eight cats lounging in windows, plus one dog, a pekinese stretched flat to look like a spotted rug.

Something irked him about me standing there and looking at him, and he wouldn't quit barking even after I'd left his field of vision.

As opposed to the various cats, who took my presence more philosophically, even though a bit quizzically, like this one.

Blank

Blank can be safely
said to be less
than blabla

But blank is
not nothing
it is space

Shorty snuck in

He did, before I had to leave for work.

This be said, though, in all haste:

• The weather angels put on shiny garb today. Hooray!
• For those who don't care about weather: try a whole season with rain.
• Heard about such a season today, which lasted from October till March 2005, from one who had to endure it close to the coast of Croatia.
• Everything wet, no electricity because solar power can only last so long with rain.
• Cooped up in a room.
• Night falls at 5:30 p.m.
• Lots of opportunity for involuntary candlelight dinners.

This is how one turns chance conversations into blogs, which then become ... what? Evanescent? Pubescent? Nascent?

Lonely sheep on the blue planet

Company
Lonely sheep on the blue planet, wants to keep company with the Little Prince.

If you can't quote it, wryte it yourself

By the way:
Another poetic form was born from this dyp in the poetyc fountayn – the y-based minimalist quatrain (YBMQ). It is a dystant western relative of its eastern haykoo cousyn.