July 2014
hey buddy!
I am too old
for cannon fodder
animal farm . . .
a fat sow gorges
on her runts
a birthcry
mapping the disposition
of stars
dawn
oversteps the smear
of a dream
all of me becomes morning fog
at dawn
my mind patrols
my borders
the poem
still not written
goes like this . . .
these words
a peninsula
of almosts
across the gulf
a connection of eyes
. . . alone
eye contact
made in passing
words also seek
connections
golden arches
the blood brotherhood
of childhood streams
leaf rattle
moments later
another
sweaty days
the meat in the sandwich
my daily bread
bird song
and we make words
about it
this word
then another
anew
listen!
letters twisting
silent
between
the silences
are words enough?
heavy haiku
brains bashed in
between the lines
a residue
of anythingness
pinioned here
in this light
just the meniscus
of a moon-drop
.floating point between coming and going.
left haiku with backspaces
a fantail
tattletaling
shadows
breath-mist
over origins
on ice