June 2017

the breath snatched 
ever-now on the brink
of sea and sky

grave undertaking
this consciousness
drained of words

hush-breath night
for now the child's star
oblivious

a butterfly
alights on the whisper
of being

an image of self
breasts
the milky way

desolate shore . . .
how are we to finish
our interior monologues?

midwinter bluff
I skirt 'round the edges
of my eye pressure

3°C
I feel my way
into being

midwinter dream
my writing hand
queries its age

stillness —
i write up
a storm

haiku moment . . .
look here I am
being in time

stridor —
for the time being
I breathe tui

in-gasp stop —
a reed thins out
my prosody

micromoon
with quiet answers 
to dark questions

full bodied
a micromoon crests
dusky sounds

bulbous bloom
a blonde bombshell bursts
my bubble

leaf seen through
a bloodline ends
at the wrist

half moon light
a fading bird tweets
the coming of dusk

final impenitence
a septuagenarian plans
to take the world with him

for a time
just the almosts
of Op. 127

snail trail 
twisting a treatise
out of time