springtime . . .
the poet too
plants alone
November 2012
In seasonal rain
along a nameless river
fear too has no name
midnight moon —
the stillness without
seeps within
at the crescent moon
the silence
enters the heart
in her journal
a pressed blossom ages —
end of spring
spring winds down . . .
behind marbled clouds
a full moon
dawn to dusk,
pining on an island:
unfulfilled love
All Soul's Day —
dawn camouflages
the night
star-gazing —
the calligraphy
of her eyes
star-gazing —
night measures out
empty space
star-gazing —
what words will name
the darkness?
an endless sea
dances within my chest . . .
the swish of words
blue flag irises
stirring in my mind
a hokku
You dance in my chest cavity,
where no one sees you,
but sometimes I do,
and that sight becomes this art.
lovers' eyes closed like perfectly matching calligraphy lines
blossoms blaspheming rent their garments of praise
nightshade . . .
the efflorescence
of sky
desolate beach —
moonlight ripples among
drifting kelp
one mirror
swims within another . . .
moon-filled lake
night wind —
sprawling over the city,
endless space
autumn wind . . .
this mea culpa
of falling
spring ends —
the sighs of loss
by a stream
by the rippling sea
a girl fades with the sunset -
dark the comet flares
morepork —
grief's leitmotif weaving
through the night
morepork,
chant our leitmotif
through this night
thunderstorm —
within this shelter
a poet's voice
the cow trough
reflects a leaping frog —
pregnant silence
my shadow
stretches beyond me . . .
end of spring
passing through
shape-shifting clouds . . .
paper tigers
woman's curse . . .
the earth brings forth
her losses
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