Daily Haiku — Jul 28, 2026

This one works by refusing to argue. Line one sounds like the opening of a debate — "nothing you will say" — but instead of countering an actual point, it pivots straight to declaration, and that swerve is the whole poem's engine. There's no real turn between second and third lines so much as a widening: revolution, a word built for streets and crowds, gets folded into something entirely interior. That contraction is the trick. The fire isn't out there changing the world; it's contained, private, almost stubborn in its smallness.

No season here, but there's a climate — the heat of conviction that doesn't need an audience to keep burning. What the compression achieves is tone without evidence: you never learn what the revolution is for, and a second read makes clear you're not meant to. The poem isn't reporting a belief. It's performing the refusal to be talked out of one.