this bird flies
a fluttered blur
all flurry on the rise
then silohetted,
fury at rest
behind puffed breast
well lost in flight
like a kite
on a lost wind
it drops,
gathering again
finally to sit
eating rocks
its song
a searching melodious grit
sailing after lunch embarked:
there's something strange
about a meadow larked...
Monday, August 3, 2009
Haiku
Sunset:
trees growing
bats soaring
moths die
do I hear crying?
Sunset:
beetles boring
bite-dust drops
on lizard tracks:
paisley print-dirt.
trees growing
bats soaring
moths die
do I hear crying?
Sunset:
beetles boring
bite-dust drops
on lizard tracks:
paisley print-dirt.
The little red bug
A little red bug is crawling
on a type-written page:
All those pre-planned words
babbling beyound its feelers...
it disappears when it crawls
onto a period...
escaping only when it flies...
Perhaps flight
is the only escape
from
not being able to communicate...
Choosing flight to bridge the gap
organized between
words
endings
hyphens
isolates their defined nature
not being able themselves
to burst into spontaneous flight...
on a type-written page:
All those pre-planned words
babbling beyound its feelers...
it disappears when it crawls
onto a period...
escaping only when it flies...
Perhaps flight
is the only escape
from
not being able to communicate...
Choosing flight to bridge the gap
organized between
words
endings
hyphens
isolates their defined nature
not being able themselves
to burst into spontaneous flight...
Sunny porch
We sit on a sunny porch
the screen door full of flies
beating their brains in
trying to get in or out...
We do not feel the impact
on our own heads
'cause all that sun
has us a little buzzy
so we pick up the paper and a book
reading
between
us
asking when our friends
will come to visit
'cause we haven't seen them
since yesterday.
the screen door full of flies
beating their brains in
trying to get in or out...
We do not feel the impact
on our own heads
'cause all that sun
has us a little buzzy
so we pick up the paper and a book
reading
between
us
asking when our friends
will come to visit
'cause we haven't seen them
since yesterday.
Sunset birches
Sunset birches,
falling leaves,
cast broken shadows
over the old man and me,
the weathered fellow and I,
coupled by a park bench near a pond,
were calling out the future,
sharing dreams.
It wasn't until the frogs began chattering
that we had too,
(its always too hard for me to sit quietly when everyone else is talking)
so I had spoken first,
startled that the old guy
wasn"t drunk,
(there was after all that brown wrapper sticking from his pocket)
"Even a frog in a mud puddle has dreams"
he said.
I sat silently for awhile,
then his eyes said goodbye.
I wondered afterward,
what frogs dream about,
and realized
that if under all that mud
their dreams were nightmares
about giant dragonflies
and sinking lily pads,
they probably would chatter a lot
in order to avoid seeing the fallen leaves floating by,
and eat every dragon fly they saw...
falling leaves,
cast broken shadows
over the old man and me,
the weathered fellow and I,
coupled by a park bench near a pond,
were calling out the future,
sharing dreams.
It wasn't until the frogs began chattering
that we had too,
(its always too hard for me to sit quietly when everyone else is talking)
so I had spoken first,
startled that the old guy
wasn"t drunk,
(there was after all that brown wrapper sticking from his pocket)
"Even a frog in a mud puddle has dreams"
he said.
I sat silently for awhile,
then his eyes said goodbye.
I wondered afterward,
what frogs dream about,
and realized
that if under all that mud
their dreams were nightmares
about giant dragonflies
and sinking lily pads,
they probably would chatter a lot
in order to avoid seeing the fallen leaves floating by,
and eat every dragon fly they saw...
River song
The river
sings many songs
of sad and lonely precipises,
around them rumbling praises:
exhorted aums
time no measure,
bubbling rocks
and slitherng cliffs
retaining parts of each;
knows forgotten edges
seperating self from self....
(listen, laughing river
listen laughing river,
a stone dropped in your smile
causes you to quiver)
until its course is run,
and many stones have slowed
a hurried way.
sings many songs
of sad and lonely precipises,
around them rumbling praises:
exhorted aums
time no measure,
bubbling rocks
and slitherng cliffs
retaining parts of each;
knows forgotten edges
seperating self from self....
(listen, laughing river
listen laughing river,
a stone dropped in your smile
causes you to quiver)
until its course is run,
and many stones have slowed
a hurried way.
Old barn, brown calf
Sun sinking into azure sand,
tall grass,
green gone brown, gone red...
pink clouds in a turquoise sky
roll eternity into my head.
Deep black holes
in the old board fence
on a prarie plow rent,
frame
a small brown calf
soon to know abandonment.
My sight passes beyond
the sunken barn,
senses deeply honed by twilight:
How shall I cherish the nighthawks flight
without keeping it?
tall grass,
green gone brown, gone red...
pink clouds in a turquoise sky
roll eternity into my head.
Deep black holes
in the old board fence
on a prarie plow rent,
frame
a small brown calf
soon to know abandonment.
My sight passes beyond
the sunken barn,
senses deeply honed by twilight:
How shall I cherish the nighthawks flight
without keeping it?
Sunset
The chainsaw's roar
dies into ashes on the hearth,
and warmth creeps into winter souls
watching a horned moon meet the horizon.
Pointing with the evening star,
Where,
when
wood
is needed less for its death
than its life,
preparations are made,
for embracing a new light.
dies into ashes on the hearth,
and warmth creeps into winter souls
watching a horned moon meet the horizon.
Pointing with the evening star,
Where,
when
wood
is needed less for its death
than its life,
preparations are made,
for embracing a new light.
The last time I saw the sun
The last time I saw the sun,
I was picking myself up
from tripping over a root,
because...
I was looking over my shoulder..
and there...
was a damn spider
crawling up my leg,
probably...
wondering
why a root felt like cotton...
not knowing why it is flying
on its own
from my finger flick...
sling shot style,
having missed a messy mash
under my hand.
It was then I
ran blindly
into a glaring sunset
falsely proclaiming warmth.
I was picking myself up
from tripping over a root,
because...
I was looking over my shoulder..
and there...
was a damn spider
crawling up my leg,
probably...
wondering
why a root felt like cotton...
not knowing why it is flying
on its own
from my finger flick...
sling shot style,
having missed a messy mash
under my hand.
It was then I
ran blindly
into a glaring sunset
falsely proclaiming warmth.
Wind comes quickly
The wind comes quickly
up the lane,
where wobbling webs
and puffs of dust
rise round
each post embraced
There, gunny sack gobs
of wintery luster
balloon all brown,
skimming and bouncing,
surrounding some small secret center
soon,
rise sighs
and anxious breaths
craving
to walk that fence again
up the lane,
where wobbling webs
and puffs of dust
rise round
each post embraced
There, gunny sack gobs
of wintery luster
balloon all brown,
skimming and bouncing,
surrounding some small secret center
soon,
rise sighs
and anxious breaths
craving
to walk that fence again
Chain
When I was little,
Papa handed me a length of chain
and said,
"you may only play with one link".
It has taken me all my life
to choose,
and now I know,
that
I could have played
with them all at once
had I got the connections...
Papa handed me a length of chain
and said,
"you may only play with one link".
It has taken me all my life
to choose,
and now I know,
that
I could have played
with them all at once
had I got the connections...
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