5 x 5 and 6 x 6

Many poets have found the sonnet to be an ideal poetic form -- its iambic pentameter lines are like five heartbeats assembled in a single breath;  its fourteen lines are a good number for considering a matter carefully. My own frequent form is different -- not a sonnet but a square of some or another dimension.   Here are two of my recent syllable-squares.

     I squint with tension,
     puzzle over this:         
     dissatisfaction's
     itchy appetites
     are my happiness.

               The smallest of us must
               be smarter than the rest
               of them to stay alive.
               Bioluminescent           
               organisms know how
               to hide behind their light.

Another recent square-poem-posting was June 2.  In 2010, these postings presented squares:  April 22, June 9, October 7.